


Protector

by Nightalp



Series: The family you choose [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), North Myths, The Amazing Spider-Man (Movies - Webb), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Angry Loki, Because the author is as good at naming things as Thor is with the toaster, But he would rather rip his own tongue out than admit it, Captain America: The Winter Soldier Compliant, Coffee, Did I mention worldbuilding?, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Graphic description of food, Hurt/Comfort, Jotun!Loki, Jotunheimr, Kidnapping, Loki Angst, Loki is a very protective!father, Loki is actually ready to give him one, Loki likes giving blowjobs, Loki living up to his title, Loki loves Thor, Loki's kids are badass, M/M, Nightmares, Past Rape/Non-con, Past Torture, Post-Thor: The Dark World, Protective Loki, Reporter!Peter Parker, Slow Build, Stockholm Syndrome, Swearing, The Trials of the Warrior, There's a lot of that, Tony Angst, Tony Needs a Hug, Vampires, Worldbuilding, and there is no such thing as pure evil, author has no idea of technic, because how much fun would shapechanging be if you can't even change into the other sex?, extreme slow build, gender-changed Loki, loki is a little shit, people being kept as pets, scheming loki, slightly changed mythology, villain are people too
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-10-28
Updated: 2017-04-30
Packaged: 2017-12-30 18:44:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 81
Words: 213,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1022124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nightalp/pseuds/Nightalp
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony Stark has disappeared, only hours after his final break-up with Pepper. </p><p>No-one knows where he is - non-one except the darker side of the New Yorker High Society.<br/>Being kept as a slave, humilitated and tortured, he begins to lose his self respect as well as his will to live. </p><p>Half starved and hanging on his sanity by the smallest tread he gets bought by a stranger. A stranger he has never seen before ... but who seems to know him, and who may be the only person able to bring him back to himself.<br/>Little problem: This stranger is intent to keep him as a pet, sitting at his feet, getting brushed every day and eating out of his hand.</p><p>And Tony finds himself liking this attitude more and more ...</p><p> </p><p>This does not contain non-con or Loki treating Tony like a slave. It's a hurt/comfort-story.<br/>With bits of Loki being Loki, of course.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The stranger

**Author's Note:**

> So, this story shouldn't contain actual non-con or torture, but it's getting mentioned often enough and there are nightmares. I'm not sure how hard it's going to get, so please heed this warning. (I am also really bad at tagging things or warning for them.)
> 
> Otherwise - Enjoy.

A sharp pain flared in Tony’s side when he collided hard with the floor. His head began to throb again - being thrown down on a cold stone floor didn't really help with all the injuries he still had, seeing as some of them were inflicted upon him mere hours ago - and the cage door behind him was closed with an audible click. 

Tony didn't bother trying to get up. The first time, yes, then he still tried to appear like a human, snapped at his captors, hurled threats in their uncaring faces.

Now, seven owners later, he just didn't bother anymore. The plain fact that he was here again - and he knew for a fact that the guards did remember him; the boot on his bare foot was a good indicator that they still hadn't forgiven him for ramming his knee in the groin of one of their colleagues - and that only three weeks after he was sold the last time was as good a reminder that he still wasn't completely broken.

Though sometimes he wasn't sure anymore why he still fought. He wasn't sure how much time exactly had passed by since that evening in the alley, where he had let himself - drunk after watching Pepper move her things out of their ... his? ... tower - get captured, but there was no doubt in his mind that, when SHIELD and the Avengers couldn't find him until now - and it had to have been at least five months - that there wouldn't be a rescue. He would, as one of the guards had so nicely pointed out on his first visit, remain a slave for the rest of his natural life.

Which could be much shorter than he ever anticipated, bad liver and hero stuff and all. At least he didn't have to worry about liver failure anymore, he thought with a bitter smile. Since they had taken him he had had nothing stronger than water - his owners liked to make him watch them drink good scotch and fine whiskey, and then send him away to his water bowl.

He was torn about their attitude. On one hand, they all seemed to thrive on the fact that they had Tony Stark, superhero, playboy, billionaire, giant pain in everyone’s ass, on his knees before them. On the other hand ... when they punished him, when they in the end understood that he was unwilling to let himself be broken to their wishes, they still did know that he was much more worth as Tony Stark than as some nameless guy, and so they never beat him up so much that he was unrecognizable. Not that that didn't mean they couldn't put him in enough pain to wish for it to stop. For him to .... sometimes ... consider giving up, giving in, doing anything to make it stop. 

But he never did, never would. He was Tony Stark, even if his pride was all that remained from that.

 

?Â¿

 

It took some minutes before he rolled on his back, pushed himself in a sitting position. Nothing had changed since his last visit: six cages on this side of the room, six on the other. There were several rooms in the cellar, then the auction hall in the floor above it, and then three floors above that. He had only ever been allowed in the upper levels once, and he had encouraged the Mistress to never consider taking him again. 

The thought made him wince. All to well he now knew how this game played out: someone would come in, or there would be the auction they held every month, and then someone would buy him, believing he could be broken. Then days of humiliations would follow, forced to crawl on his knees, drink water and eat dishes he wouldn't even give his dog had he ever owned one. Then, when he still hadn't given in - or sometimes even before that; some of his owners seemed to delude themselves that being a playboy meant forced sex could be counted as a reward - the rape would follow. Around that time he usually snapped out, didn't bother anymore what they did to his body, until the real torture began. 

In his mind he found himself thanking Natasha again and again for forcing him through lessons about being kidnapped. He had always thought he would rather die than let that happen to himself again - had _sworn_ on it! - but now he knew that dying would be giving up even more than obeying their wishes, and he never would grant them that kind of victory. 

He was Tony Stark, and losing was not on his agenda.

A low hiss drew his attention to his cell neighbor. 

A woman, he recognized. And a beautiful one at that - long blond hair, high cheekbones, big blue eyes - exactly the kind he used to pick up at parties. She had a long red slash across her cheek, but he could see in her eyes that it was probably not inflicted in anger, or at least not earned due to misbehavior. She was a broken girl, had submitted to her destiny a long time ago, and found the fragile peace that could bring her mind.

Seeing that she had his attention she smiled warily. "Kat.", she said and Tony wondered which name she truly bore that got butchered to this pet-name.

"Anthony.", he answered, the once hated name now a proud reminder of what he truly was, for none of his owners had ever used it.

Confusion clouded her features, then she ducked against the other side of the cage. There was shuffling in the other cages as well, and he couldn't blame them. He knew all to well how easy it was to catch the attention of a guard who was punishing another slave. And a slave calling himself such a proud name was always trouble.

Snorting a little bit he carefully straightened his limbs. He was still sore after the beating he had received earlier the day - a parting gift after throwing her breakfast at the party-princess that dared to try own him. Her security chief had been thorough, and in the end it didn't matter if there were some bruises more or less on his body. The owner of this fine establishment already knew him - had expected him back, Tony suspected - and she knew what she had to do to keep him relatively healthy and quiet both. 

As did Tony. The next days would be a brief time to heal, then the whole thing would begin again. 

Laying down carefully on the wall side of his prison - as much in the middle as he could manage so as not to appear as if he was close to one of the slaves in the cages beside his - he cursed under his breath about the lack of sheets. It wasn't cold, but he would never get used to sleeping naked in an unfriendly environment. But he would manage, and he would survive and hold his eyes open for any opportunity to flee.

It was no comforting thought, but it brought a grim smile to his lips and in the end he did sleep, thinking about the revenge he would inflict upon the people which thought to own him.

 

?Â¿

 

It was some days later when the door to the room was pushed open and the stranger stepped in.

Inside the building there weren't many ways to notice what time had passed by, but then they weren't kept in all day. At least the mistress - no-one seemed to know her name, not even the customers - knew that they were important goods and kept them in good shape: two meals a day which, while being cooked to a ugly looking paste, contained vegetables and grain, sometimes even eggs and milk. Also they were allowed half an hours walk in the enclosed yard - six slaves at a time, so there couldn't be more then maybe twelve rooms all in all - to prevent the muscles from complete degeneration. And not to forget the cold shower they were subjected to every time they returned into the building.

So Tony was relatively sure that he hadn't been here for more than six days - and the state his now yellow and purple bruises were in confirmed that - when his live changed again. Not that he would have known from the arrival of the man; there had been several strangers over the last days and the girl from beside him and a young man from across the room were taken, just to be replaced by two tired looking women in their late thirties. 

As it was common they didn't speak. It wasn't that Tony had ever heard one of the guards forbid speaking under the slaves, which just made him suspicious of methods to listen in on them - not that that would be really surprising; they were just slaves for the guards after all - but there was seldom more than a little whispering under the prisoners, as if they had forgotten how to speak.

In the days, that is. Nights were a whole other matter; they did still not speak to each other but there weren't much who didn't suffer from nightmares, and his very first nights in the Mistress' house he had problems to sleep at all. Now he was just used to it, woke mostly from his own screams to heavy sobbing from the man on his right and his own sore throat.

Sleepily he blinked at the guy that came in flanked by one of the guards and the older man which seemed to be in charge of them when the mistress wasn't around. Not that she often bothered to come down to their level, he thought snorting. She much rather stayed above in her golden little palace, build on the sweat and blood and tears of the slaves she kept here.

The noise, as little as it was, echoed in the now absolutely still room and drew the attention of the stranger. He looked young, twenty, maybe twenty five - much to young to be caught in this filthiness on his own, so he must have been born into it. His green and black colored clothes were expensive - material and cut both - and fitting, complimenting his slender shape and height. Black hair curled over his shoulders, framed a pale, aristocratic looking face. The most interesting about him was the absence of gold and other obvious signs of wealth - that is, until he caught sight of him and asked, in a uncertain, lightly shocked voice: "Stark ...?", like he knew him.

Tony was sure he had never seen this guy in his whole life.


	2. An old acquaintance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What Loki was up to these past few years ...

Loki’s day began rather unpleasant. The uneasiness that seemed to be less then inclined to let him go for months now had made his sleep more restless then normal again and thrown him out of bed before dawn. Even the shower couldn't make his cramped shoulder loosen up, and his breakfast tasted like mud even though he knew that Jean had done his utmost to make it as pleasing as possible. When he saw his boss being still uncomfortable he even offered to give him a massage or ... something else ... but Loki declined. Not that Jean wasn't pleasant to look at, but there was that meeting he had and he couldn't afford to be distracted. Or more distracted then he already was.

Groaning he reached for the folder lying on the table. It was nothing big, not really. Just a meeting with the head of a delivery company and the possibility of an arrangement concerning a future assignment. He didn’t even really need this contract as such, but the contacts the man had. Sebastian Moran was a man known for his not wholly legal activities, and for what Loki wanted to achieve he needed sources everywhere.

Not that he didn’t already had a lot. He had been on earth for three years now, and while he had been playing with his little superhero-team the first one and then some year he had long ago decided to stick to the shadows and pull at the strings of the other supposed supervillains. It wasn't bad - at least it kept the boredom at bay and the Avengers relatively safe until the time he had decided what to do with them - and while it never really satisfied him he felt a dark joy every time one of his plans worked out exactly as he wanted it to and the authorities ran around, feeling that there should be someone else to blame but being unable to find him.

Who would suspect him? Louis de St.Marin was a friendly, tax paying and ordinary guy. He must have been one of the very few really dark persons in this world that never had a file with the police - or at least none with his name on it. But then the only ones who knew that he even dappled with the underground weren't so high in this world either - or well protected enough that he had not to worry about his own anonymity.

And the rest covered his magic.

He had needed almost half a year to complete the spell, which was the reason that SHIELD had had him on their radar at all. It was an easy charm - nothing drastic, just a little confusion in the mind of everyone that saw him so the neuron which should have been screaming _“Loki”_ upon seeing him stayed silent. After he started to meddle with the dark forces of this world he extended the range - made sure that no-one would remember him when questioned by the police - and so Louis was still a good guy with a white vest as far as the police was concerned.

Not that he refrained from going out as Loki as well - he loved to cause mischief, and sometimes he stripped himself from the spell, showed up in the middle of New York and painted Miss Liberty an obscenely pink. Only to again pull the charm in place and seemingly leave the place while the Avengers show up with full force and no-one to fight against, snickering at their faces. Especially proud he is about the little variation he made that allows him to stay anonym even under the technical eye of a camera that could connect to an face-recognizing-software.

No-one should be able to say that Loki of Asgard was as behind with midgardian technology as his brother!

Though he had to admit that having Jean and Mary helped. When he arrived on earth after escaping the aesir prison, alone but for the loyal woman who helped him come free, he knew immediately that they would be to recognizable, to strange to fit in. So he sought out one of the few interesting people he had met at his former visit to earth and talked Mary into throwing her bastard of a husband out and letting them stay instead. She was a beautiful, friendly elderly woman and Loki might have felt guilty for using his tongue’s silver magic on her if not for the fact that she really did bloom again after that bastard left her. He also only stayed for half a year with her, until he had tricked enough other cretins out of their money and began building his own company. He was good at it, mostly because he could read people like their thoughts were written down for him to see, and he was uniquely able to find the people most suited for the positions he needed filled, even though they wouldn't have been chosen by any other one.

Jean was one of this persons. He stumbled - literally - upon him one freezing cold rainy evening. He had seen the boy - okay, he was 18, but he did not look it - in an empty alley, lying unconscious and barefoot on the street. He was no bleeding heart - _a far cry from it!_ \- but in that moment he had felt like doing something favorable - probably to do with the mind-tearing discussion he had had with his brother only hours ago - and so he had taken the boy home, put him on his couch and settled himself in his own bed, secure in the knowledge of the magical protections in the house as well as his own fighting abilities and Sigyn only a bedroom door away.

In the morning he had woken to the most heavenly smell he had ever encountered, his own cooking talents included. The first words to the boy - before “Good morning” or even just the inquiry after his name - were almost a threat as he told him that he wouldn't leave the place without signing a working contract. To the boys luck he hadn't hesitated and since then was the unquestionable force behind the cleanliness in the house and also, slow and still, wormed his way under Loki's hard shell into his heart.

But while he was a gem Loki didn't intend to ever let go he couldn't disperse the unexplainable anxiety that had taken seat in Loki's mind and made him nervous even now. 

In the end he just gave up and put the croissant down. "I'm sorry, Jean.", he said with a small smile. "It is as tasty as ever, but I’m afraid I am unable to eat my share today."

Jean, having become accustomed to his oddities over the years, just nodded. "I'll make something for lunch to make up for it.", he offered. "Or will you be eating out?"

Loki actually had to think about this before he sighed and had to admit: "I'll probably eat with Moran today. He likes to invite his partners." He thought for a moment. "Something light for dinner, if you would be so kind. I'll have to much on my mind today so I'll probably not be very hungry in the evening."

Jean nodded, though he didn't seemed thrilled - the boy thought it was his live's mission to feed Loki.

"Until tonight then, Lou.", he said, using the familiar address Loki allowed only very few to call him by.

His features became soft. "Until then.", he concluded the deal.

 

?Â¿

 

The meeting had been exactly as he had anticipated - boring, successful, and with a lot more flirting than he would have liked. He actually had to put a stop on it when Moran's hand snucked up on his knee during their meal, so he couldn't even enjoy it - and it was good, it really was, though not comparable to Jean's. 

What had possessed him to agree to visit with him this vile place after it he couldn't even fathom. But in the exact moment when Moran mentioned the Mistress' house he felt the anxiety in himself rise and he took it as a sign to follow the man.

It wasn't his first time here, even if he could hardly be counted as a regular visitor, and he was no customer, at least not of the biggest goods she had to offer. The only reason he came at all was that in the upper levels there were gatherings at which an attentive ear could hear all kind of news.

He couldn't understand how humans could decide to own their own people, and he had more than once considered burning the place down. What had always prevented it was the knowledge that, should this place cease to exist, another would spring up, and at least the woman cared enough about her money to provide everything for the slaves to stay healthy.

But now ... there was something calling him here, something so strong he couldn't ignore it even though he hadn't wanted to ever set a foot in the basement again. Moran hadn't commented on it - the fool was already too drunk and he had called his driver so he would pick him up; it wouldn't do him any good if the man continued to make a fool out of himself before this day's work paid off. 

The cellars were as quiet as he remembered them. He recalled that he had first thought the slaves drugged before he looked one of them in the eyes and saw the broken toy in them - most of them had already lost their self respect, and the rest was too hurt, or too weary themselves to try changing that a bit.

The first two rooms they visited held nothing of interest - just shells with broken souls inside them - and he hurried on, tried to not see to much. Had he been able to, he would have returned to the upper levels, but it was impossible now - that urgent need to be _here_ , to _find_ , didn't let him rest. He first _had_ to find what had called him in the first place.

And then, in the third room full of cages, only moments after he had entered - a guard and a spidery old man following him - he heard a little noise that seemed to not belong to this place. A noise that spoke of defiance, of self respect despite the circumstances, and he found himself immediately drawn to this cage. In the strong light it shouldn't be possible for the slave to hide himself, but he managed anyway, keeping his face hidden in the shadows until he suddenly raised it and looked Loki over.

He couldn't even think about how strange that was - he saw the face, but it took him a long moment to understand what he saw. "Stark ...", he whispered eventually, and yes, it was the mortal. The human within the Iron Man. And while his face was weary, while he looked a great bit on the hungry and desperate side there was no mistaking that spark in those brown eyes - even in the five months since his disappearance nothing had been able to actually break him. Not wholly, at least, for the desperation, the feverish look spoke volumes. He was still himself, but he held on by the thinnest of threads, and it was a wonder that he was still aware.

The voice of the older man - he seemed to be in charge of the slaves, seeing as he had been called when Loki announced his desire to see the cages - startled him out of his thoughts. "Yes, that's Tony Stark. He's one of the proudest fuckers I've every seen - months and still no-one managed to break him in."

Loki felt fury rise inside him. Of course Stark wouldn't let someone break him. That would be to easy, and Tony Stark did not do easy. Not the man who offered Loki a drink when he was just a mortal man in close proximity to an insane god set on burning the world down. No, this man would not let himself be broken. He would rather die then cease his sense of self.

Slowly he uncurled his fists. "What does she want for him?", he heard himself asking.

The man made a clicking noise in his throat. "Ah, I'm not sure that's a good idea. He is rather stubborn and not a little dangerous. For a first slave I would recommend something a little less"

"Had I wanted you're counsel concerning this choice I would have asked for it. As it turns out, I do not. So - how much does she want for him?"

It took all he had to not turn on the man and strangle him, and the keeper seemed to feel it - or hear it in the icy coldness of his voice - for he immediately dropped this line of speaking and named a sum. But only to add: "The man is dangerous, even if only by being who he is. If you want him, you'll have to convince the Mistress that you are able to keep him confined."

Loki felt his lips curl in distaste. "That won't be a problem.", he said. "I may not have ever owned a slave, but I know how to take care of a stubborn _pet_."


	3. Owned again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jumping out of the frying pan ...

It was nothing new to be talked about like he wasn't even here, and though he knew that he was only a thing, a trophy to be owned and showed around for these people it was the first time he heard his worth spelled out in numbers.  
Gritting his teeth he glared as the customer and the spider disappeared, followed by the guard. Maybe this could work out in his favor, he thought. The spider had thought that the guy wasn’t up to the task of keeping Tony confined. If he was right ... then this could be the chance he had been waiting for. The chance to flee.  
Here was hoping the Mistress would allow the jerk to buy him, even knowing that he had no experience with slaves. When Tony was lucky the boy would be living by himself, with no older person to spell out the difficulties to him. And maybe, maybe, if he played this right, he could be free once more.

?Â¿

It took them so much time that he began to fear the Mistress hadn't granted the request before the door opened again. Again the guy and the spider, but this time accompanied by two guards, one of them holding a strong leather leash and handcuffs.  
He knew that he had to make sure that they didn't suspect something and so he snorted and just snarled: "Don't rent my cage to another, I'll be here again in less then a week."  
The spider ignored him, but the man - his new owner - shot him a look he couldn't read. Not insecure, or something like that. Mostly ... analytical? Maybe .... but not enough to understand a being like Tony.  
Then one of the guards barked: "Against the wall!", and with a last smirk he obeyed. It wasn't as if he could do anything else, as they had established during his first visits here.   
He leaned against the wall, very conscious of the fact that he was naked. It wasn't that he didn't knew it the rest of the time, but now, with so many other persons ... with someone clothed entering his cage ... it should be silly, but he felt as if he was safe in his little cage. The guards normally didn't bother to enter - if they wanted to punish him they would do so outside where there was enough place to properly use their palm or cane (never fists or whips; wouldn't do to damage the goods) - the only time they did was when the slaves were bought and made ready for their new owners. Though Tony had to admit, normally the new owners didn't bother coming down here a second time but awaited their purchases on the ground floor.  
Pressed against the cold wall - concrete always seemed to be cold, even though it shouldn't be with the temperature in the room - he couldn't really follow the guard’s progress into the room, just felt when the man grabbed roughly for his wrists - no need, not really; after the one time when one of them almost broke it he always held them out behind him, ready to be cuffed - and shoved them into the bindings. With an audible click they closed, took away some more of his freedom.   
The next step was the leash, which had to be attached to the collar he was wearing - metal and leather, and no way to remove it without the key or some tools not available to him - and once it was there was no way to easily remove it. Then he was roughly yanked back and dragged out of the cage like an animal to be presented to his new owner.   
"If you want, we can gag him, too. He always has a sharp tongue after some days here.", the spider offered.  
The man seemed to consider this, then declined. "I think I can handle a little being spat at by a pet.", he said. "Do you bind dogs because they bark?"  
The spider laughed, and the guards smirked. Interestingly the man himself seemed to be the least amused by his own words, and under his scrutinizing look Tony felt himself shudder. Who was this man? It had seemed like a good choice to go with him, but ... all his other would-be owners he had known, had heard about. This man was new, was someone he had never encountered before, and that could be good as well as worse.  
Not that it mattered - he was sold, and he would have to go with the man, at least until he found a way to break free or return here.  
The guard offered the man the end of the leash and he took it without hesitation. A last nod to the men and the spider, then he turned on his heels and strode out in long, confident strides.  
Tony stumbled after him - he had no desire to lose his footing and get dragged after the man by his collar - until he seemed to notice Tony's difficulties and slowed down a bit. Biting his tongues he refrained from thanking the guy - he hadn't done it for Tony, but to not damage his possession.  
They followed the floors and passed several locked doors and guards before reaching a corridor Tony remembered leading into a underground parking spot - the building was somewhere in New York, which made it necessary to put some security measures into place such as never letting a slave see the building from the outside.  
The last door was opened and then he was in a place he actually liked a bit - standing in the parking lot he almost could forget about his nudity, about the humiliation of the collar around his throat and the leash held tightly in the other man’s hand. There were so many really cool cars here, some of them even he couldn't obtain, and he felt a spark, a longing fire up when he stood here.  
It didn't last long. Only moments after they had entered a silver-gray car came up before them - a sport car, he recognized, and a cool one at that. He would actually drive this himself.  
The driver turned out to be a woman which looked only slightly older then his new master, wearing an unfamiliar uniform in green and black - and okay, that made it clear why the guy was wearing his outfit; some of the younger jerks actually seemed to like showing up in their house’s colors. Raising an eyebrow a little when she saw Tony she came around and opened the door for the guy, who tugged lightly on the leash to let Tony know that he was required to go in first. He considered resisting but in the end decided that it wouldn't do him any good and so just stumbled forward and then slid carefully into the car.  
The seats were a creambrown and made of soft leather that seemed to hug him from behind. Barely containing a groan that build up in his chest he sank into the seat; after a week with only concrete to sit on this was heaven.  
The new guy - and, fuck it, he really needed to know the guys name, he couldn't just call him guy in his head anymore - slid in after him and bend over his body, buckling the seat belts. Being so close to him he could smell the cologne of the guy - something fresh, like snow, and spicy. He thought about using his unbound legs to kick him but then he looked up and catching he little smirk in the guys smaragd-green eyes he refrained. He couldn't even tell why he did so, but all of a sudden the guy just seemed much more dangerous than all his other owners before, and that send a shiver down his spine.  
Clearly catching his reaction the guy's smirking grew wider but he didn't comment on it, instead buckled himself in and then gave the driver the okay to go.  
Again Tony swallowed. This was no innocent man, and he should really make sure to never forget that.  
The car’s motor was so quiet he felt his eyebrow go up - he could barely hear anything, and if not for the bypassing walls he wouldn't even know that they were driving, so little he could feel. Also the driver was really good - even though his bound hands made it difficult to sit in a way that gave him enough leverage to hold himself upright he barely swayed, and the guy next to him actually took a glass and a bottle with water and filled it while they still curved around.  
Still wondering about that he almost missed the point when they left the building. He didn't bother looking around; the combination of darkened windows and the clever build of the place made sure he wouldn't be able to pin down the place he had been held in.  
A movement out of the corner of his eyes caught his attention and he stared as the guy put a pill in the half filled glass, swinging it until the tablet was dissolved. He had a dark feeling he knew were this was going and ... yes, exactly, the guy was looking at him.  
"You have two options.", he said calmly. "One, you drink this and will sleep until we reach our destination. Two, I will inject you with another drug which will make you sleep as well, but you'll wake up disorientated and with a really bad headache. Your call, Stark."  
Everything in him bristled about the balls of the guy, telling him to spat in his face and rather take the headache then give in to him. But even so his mind was working and he knew that he couldn't risk having anything less then his full wits with him when he woke up to whatever games this guy wanted to play with him.  
So he opened his mouth slightly, indicating that he would drink when the man held the glass to his lips - he knew better then to expect him to open the cuffs. And the man gave him an approving smile before taking the tumbler and tilting it to his lips so he could drink.  
The water was bitter, but that didn't concern Tony much. He had drunk worse, even when we was still free, and just swallowed it down, relatively sure that the man wouldn't poison him before he had had his fun.  
The drug worked fast. Around five minutes later he felt sleepily, then his head sank down on his chest. He didn't resist, only tried to let himself fall against the window were he wouldn't have so much of a crack in his neck when he awoke. Surprised he felt fingers against his other side, helping him settle down, then the spark of curiosity died down and he fell into the dark void of unconsciousness.


	4. Visit of the doctor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beginning to care ...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not sure if I can manage to put the next chapter up tomorrow as I will be visiting my family, but I'll try.

Loki found himself staring at the man leaning against the other side of his car. Tony Stark, Iron Man. His slave.

He had never felt this conflicted before. There was clearly a spark of the old Tony Stark here, but it was buried under experiences that had the potential to break a lesser man. There was no way Tony Stark would return to the man he once was. Not now, not ever. 

He hadn't questioned his urge to get the man out, but then he had still thought to bring him to his tower and then let him live on.

That was now clearly out of question. Stark had survived this trial, but he would never survive being put on public display before the press, and they would hound him down, not knowing or caring that this man hadn't been able to hold on whatever held him together in Afghanistan. He would shatter, and Loki had seen this man's genius, his sparkling mind, and he knew that he couldn't let this happen.

"To the tower?", Sigyn asked.

Loki shook his head. "No. Bring us home."

She hesitated, then asked: "Are you sure? They will search for him, and should he ever"

"He wouldn't survive what was demanded of him now.", Loki said slowly. "He has been put to trial, and he came through, but the man that survived is not the same one that went in. You've seen him - do you think the Tony Stark we know would have acted this way?"

"No.", she accepted. "But ... what do you want to do with him? He is a dangerous man, and he does know you. Should he find out who you are ..."

"That won't happen." He again looked at the man, looking more peaceful now though he didn't expect this to last. "I already told him that I do need a new pet. He will live with us, he will heal and he will come to accept this new chance that has been given to him. And one day, when he is healed enough to stand this world once again, I will let him go and have whatever revenge he does desire to bring to the ones that made him into this."

"You think he will spare you?"

"It doesn't matter what he wants, the spell will make sure that he won't recognize me after he has been released."

"And what if he does not heal?"

"Then he will still have a better life with us then anywhere else.", Loki concluded.

 

?Â¿

 

It took some time to arrive at his house, enough to call for a doctor he trusted and arrange for him to be there when he arrived. Though he couldn't detect anything worse then bruises he wanted to make sure that Tony really was okay.

The thought startled him. And it wasn't even the implication that he wanted him safe - he had accepted that in the moment when he had decided to take him home. No, it was the name he had given him.

Before now, he had always only ever been Stark, or Iron Man, but never anything else. But the man lying so helpless there beside him was not the powerhouse he had come to like. And yet ... it didn't seem right to call him _Tony_. Not because the name didn't suit him - it did, better then anything else at least - but because the guards, the Mistress, even the spider had used it. It would hold bad memories now, and if he wanted to help him he would have to use another name.

"Tony Stark.", he murmured, before recalling that that wasn't the real name of the man. "Anthony Howard Stark.", he said, his lips curling slightly. "Anthony. Precious." He let his hand travel lightly over the other man’s arm. "Anthony. I will make you feel so good. You may not always like what I do, but I promise - whatever I do, I won't try to hurt you."

As if hearing him the man shifted a bit and groaned quietly, trying to get more contact with the hand on his arm. Loki indulged him, stroked and petted him until they arrived at their destination.

He had loved the house from the first moment he had seen it. Situated a little outside of the city it had a big yard that was tended to by some nymphs he had found living here which were more than grateful to have a place less polluted by chemicals. Every visitor stared at the big trees, the blooming bushes and the flowers growing and blossoming everywhere. A gravel driveway lead through the greenery until it reached the house, a three-floor building painted in yellow and with many, often wide open windows. Vines grew over the house and he made a mental note to make sure that Tony - Anthony - wouldn't be able to use them for an escape attempt. He would just break his neck, especially in the condition he was in at the moment.

Sigyn stopped the car and came out, helped him picking Anthony up, before she drove it into the garage. Seeing it driving away he remembered Anthony’s look upon seeing the car the first time - he had liked it, and this sign of the old Stark made his chest warm up a bit.

It was late afternoon, but still Mary greeted him at the door. How she always managed to know when someone arrived he would never know, but he suspected she had help from the nymphs.

In the beginning the translucent, but strong spirits had caused her fear, but in the meantime she had made friends with them and they actually listened to her (what probably had to do with her ability to procure new plants or stones if they desired them, and also the fact that she had access to the greenhouse). 

She didn't look surprised upon seeing him carrying Anthony in, even though he was naked and chained like a wild dog, but than she hadn't seemed surprised by Jean either. Instead she informed him that the doctor was waiting in the salon but she would call him up in whichever room he wanted to have the boy in.

That gave him pause. Of course, she thought he had rescued Anthony from some obscure destiny and would set him free now. He would have to inform her later about the way he wanted to treat the man - the way he wanted _her_ to treat him. As he would have to inform Jean and the nymphs. The spirits he did't think would have objections - the ways of humans held few interest for them, and they wouldn't even think to question his order. His human friends would take more convincing, but than he hadn't chosen them for their stupidity. If he explained to them his reasoning they would understand and not try to interfere in Anthony's healing.

Belatedly he realized that he had stood there some minutes now without answering. "No.", he said at last. "I will meet him in the salon. The faster he looks Anthony over, the better, I think. I am not sure how long the drug will last, and it would be better if he were somewhere safe when he awakes."

She nodded, though looked a bit curious. Of course - every room in this house would look unfamiliar and frightening to the man. He just smiled a bit and then walked in the direction of the receiving room, leaving her to hasten after him and open then door since his load didn't allow him to. Nodding his thanks he strode past her into the room.

The man awaiting him was around fifty, of Asian origin and had had a lot of troubles with police and underworld bosses both before Loki took him in. He didn't knew of Lou's true identity, knew only that a rather dark and great player in the underworld had taken him for himself, only to send him on his ways with the simple order to always obey a certain business man's orders. So he may know that Lou is in contact with Loki, may even suspect further, but won't be able to find the exact connection. And so he came when Lou called, treats whoever he wants to be treated, and returns to the little praxis he managed to open with Lou's start capital.

Loki is more than pleased with himself for acquiring this mortal - he may not look much, but aside from the debts he had to pay after his brothers suicide and the things he had to do in order to do that he is a more than competent doctor and there aren't much he would entrust Anthony rather to.

"Lee.", he greeted the man with a nod before setting his new slave - his pet - down on the couch opposite the one the doctor is sitting on. Anthony was still out and would be so for at least another hour, probably more if the exhaustion that had drawn lines in his face was anything to go by. 

The doctor came around the table to him, a belated "Mr. St.Marin." on his lips before he bend over the supine form of the unconscious man. He didn't hesitate to touch him - in his years with the mob he must have seen much more beaten up victims - but he took care to not cause more harm. "What has been done to him?", he asked.

Loki stilled for a moment before answering: "I do not know exactly. From what I could gather he has been subjected to harsh punishments as well as, possibly, starvation. I also suspect rape, but I am not sure."

The doctor nodded and got to work.

It didn't take much time which made Loki hopeful that his first impression had been right - while he was covered in multicolored bruises Anthony wasn't in such a bad state as to need a hospital. The worst seemed to be a badly heeling burn mark on his lower back which looked as if someone had put his cigarette out there. Lee gave him a gel to put on as well as an antibiotic to prevent his weakened body from succumbing to all the bacteria he could have acquired with the wounds, though he stated it was more of a precaution than anything else. 

"Get him to eat and drink, keep him clean and let him exercise these muscles and he should be fine in no time at all.", Lee stated, before hesitatingly licking his lips and adding: "I do not know about his mind. He has been, as you suspected, raped and together with the other punishments and the humiliations ... I would recommend removing the collar and giving him to a secluded hospital where he can recover in peace." Clearly the man knew who he was dealing with.

Loki just shook his head. "There is no hospital in this world secluded enough to hide Tony Stark. They will find him and then he will be hunted down before he is quiet recovered enough to stand against them. This house is the best place for him to be at the moment.", he stated calmly.

Lee licked his lips, not fully convinced. "What about ..." He didn't finish, but than he didn't need to. His worry and the hesitate look on his face gave him away.

"I give you my word, doctor, that your patient will not encounter anyone that may want him harm, up to and including certain super villains which may have a connection to him." No lie - he might be a villain, technically speaking, but he did not wish harm to come to the man.

The doctor looked in his face, searching for truth, and Loki let him see how serious he was with this statement. Eventually the man nodded. "Then I will leave you. Call me should his condition worsen again."

Loki nodded slightly before watching the doctor leave the room. Then he looked down on the mortal he had taken in his house. 

"So. Let's see what we do with you."


	5. New Rules

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Waking up in Loki#s house ... let's see what this morning brings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for not updating yesterday. As I thought I didn't have enough time to check the chapter again, and seeing as I'm already making enough mistakes that I'm unable to find I didn't want to upload it with mistakes I do.  
> Enjoy ;)

Tony woke to the unfamiliar feeling of a soft underlay, warmth surrounding him and making him feel comfortable, supported by the long missed feeling of being fully rested. 

Hesitatingly he opened his eyes - his last months had let him to believe that such a comfort always came with a price.

He was laying in front of a heater, cushioned from the coldness of the floor by a thick rug. He was still naked, and a quick check stated that he still wore a collar, though it wasn't the one he had become accustomed to; this collar was made from soft leather, maybe two fingers wide and closed with a simple buckle. Touching the clasp he thought about removing it but then let it closed; he didn't know the game the guy played and he didn't want to get punished quite this early in their association. 

Speaking of this - he wasn't cuffed anymore, and that normally meant he was caged in, but the room was certainly never meant for that: a big bed stood at his right in the middle of the room, and there was a closet door opposite of it as well as two other doors, one on the far side of the bed and one behind him. The rest of the room was taken up mostly by a lot of shelves around the walls, filled to the brim with books.

No, this did not look like a cage. This looked like a normal bedroom.

A _used_ bedroom.

Startled Tony woke up the rest of the way and glanced again over to the bed. Yes, there between the burgundy sheets he could just see the black strands of his new owner.

The guy really did sleep with him in the same room. The spider was right - he _was_ an idiot no-one should trust with a disobedient slave like Tony. 

His first thought was to flee, but than there was always the danger of the guy discovering his disappearance to early, or worse, waking up when Tony opened the door. No, better he made sure the guy couldn't wake anyone else.

Quietly he stood up, relieved that the man hadn't lied about the drug letting him be clearheaded by waking. As noiseless as he could manage, and for once grateful for his bare feet, he walked over to the bed, looking down on the sleeping face of the guy who thought to own him. No-one would do that, ever, and this boy would learn that fast.

Searching for something to bind his hands with he quickly grabbed his collar, unbuckled it and looked at the leather. Green, as he should have expected by now, with some small metal decor on the front. It would do, he decided, and took one of the pillows. A last deep breath, than he sprang on the bed.

He never had a chance to even press the pillow down on the guy’s face before he was simply gone, moving out of his way faster than it should be possible. Instead he felt himself getting pressed into he mattress, his head buried in the thick pillow until breathing became something he had to struggle for. The weight upon his back didn't shift even when he bucked like a wild horse and wriggled for all he was worth, until the adrenaline left his body powerless and weak in the cushions.

Still there was the weight, the _guy_ on his back, and he couldn't stop himself from remembering all the other moments he had felt this - all the bad memories that began this way, and a shiver ran down his spine.

Eventually the weight shifted and he could turn his face enough to suck in the breath he so desperately needed. 

A hand came to rest on his upper back, stroking him calmly. "I am not quiet the inexperienced boy you think me to be, Anthony.", a dangerous, silky voice stated above him and he couldn't stop the startle that went through him when he heard the name he called himself by out of this mouth. The hand on his back didn't stop even though he must have felt his reaction, but the weight shifted a bit and then he felt the hand moving up to his neck seconds before the collar was fastened once more around his throat.

"You are _mine_ , Anthony.", the guy stated in a low, calm voice - so other then all the other voices that had told him that and that had been excited, angry, greedy. And this calmness equally calmed and frightened him. He had thought this guy not more than a boy, and the guy had known it, had used it to get him to comply with him until now. But he couldn't be as inexperienced as he had seemed to be, not with this steady hands, this voice, this foresight. For he had known what Tony would do, had expected it, and now used his own actions against him.

Shivering in anticipation of punishment Tony lay there, collared, naked, helpless, under the one who just might be enough to break him.

"Peace, Anthony.", he said. "There is no need for fear. I do understand - you have been treated badly, and now you lash out against everyone coming close. I could tell you that there is no need here, with me, but how would you know that I am speaking the truth?" The hands rubbed again over his skin, and against his will Tony felt himself slightly relaxing. "It does not matter. I will show you, and you will learn to enjoy being mine. For now you only have to know that you are my pet, and I will treat you accordingly. When you are good you will be rewarded, when you misbehave you will be punished. Listen carefully now, Anthony: Whatever way I will chose to punish you, you will never be beaten, or raped, or starved again. Do you understand that?"

He did understand, the words at least, but he also felt himself tremble under the implication, felt his mind reeling. He would never be beaten? Would never be used against his will, never fight with gnawing hunger or thirst that dried his throat until he actually considered using the toilets for something else then what they were made for? But did that mean he would be punished in ways he just didn't know now? Ways which may even be worse than that? Strictly speaking waterboarding didn't count as beating, too, but it was much _much_ worse than any fists could ever be. 

It was to much. He felt tears gather in his eyes, just managed to suppress the sob that threatened to come out of his throat. What would happen now? And what did this man want him for, if not to humiliate or use him?

As if reading his thoughts the guy said: "You are my pet. When I work you will sit with me, when I sleep you will be here in my room, lying at your place and sleeping as well. When I rest you may sit down at my feet and read or maybe watch TV. You will be fed when I eat. When I have to leave the house I will make sure that you have something to do, to occupy your sparkling mind. Do not fear your future, Anthony. You will come to like what is expected of you, and to love your days by my side."

The calm, unhurried, silky voice let it sound like a god given destiny Tony had no power left in him to fight. And he wasn't sure he really wanted, at least not now. Oh, clearly he would fight against it, but ... not now. Not yet, when bruises still screamed at him from wherever the guy touched him, the burn on his back hurt and he felt so weary he could barely be troubled to fight the want to give in.

"I won't call you master.", he said and had to fight the nausea that threatened to drown him for this words sounded like defeat.

The man didn't react as if they were. "You may call me Louis, as I will call you Anthony." Again the petting over his back, then his head, and Tony had to admit that yes, it felt nice to be touched that casual, that kindly, without being expected to do something in return. Well, other than lying here, at least.

At last he gave in, relaxed in the soft caress, and the man shifted again, this time so that he could sit beside Tony. His back wanted to thank him, for having him perched there wasn't nearly as cushy as it sounded, but he just lay still, his back to the man, and enjoyed the touch. 

Some minutes later the guy - Louis - began speaking again. "As much as I would like to sit here with you for the whole day, the doctor recommended that you should be fed regularly, and I don't think he meant once a day as you have already missed dinner yesterday. Come, _up_ , Anthony. You'll get a meal, and you'll meet the others, and then I have work to do. Nothing straining for today, I promise. Not until you are significantly better."

Anthony felt a light tremor pass through him when Louis mentioned others. Others like him? Or others as in other family members?

 

?Â¿

 

As it turned out, neither nor. 

After Louis had showed him to the bathroom - the door on his end of the room - and given him his own towel and toothbrush and they both had made use of them he had been made to wait while Louis dressed himself - obviously pets weren't meant to wear clothing any more than toys or playthings. Then he had, with very slow movements, taken the leash out of a drawer.

"I won't use it as long as you remain by my side.", he had explained and Tony had looked at him with distrusting eyes, before nodding his consent and watching him put the leash away again. 

Then he had taken a key out of another drawer and unlocked the door, and, okay, the guy had really been prepared for Tony trying to bold. Though he wasn't sure if it was better to be caught while trying to subdue your owner than when you are trying to escape and are stopped by a single locked door.

The hallway was still and elegantly decorated, obviously by the same guy who was responsible for Louis' bedroom as well. But Tony didn't have time to look, even though Louis seemed inclined to let him, for the smell that wavered to them in heavenly clouds awoke a fierce hunger in his belly that he was unable to ignore.

He remembered the promise that Louis had made, that he would be fed whenever he ate, and wondered if that meant that he would eat the same as his owner. Smelling this he could only hope - a hope he would have crushed if not for the indulgent smile Louis send him upon hearing his stomach growl.

The kitchen was on the ground level and they passed some elegantly decorated doors on their way there. Tony suspected at least one eating room, but Louis didn't hesitate until he reached the kitchen - obviously he was not the kind of guy to eat somewhere fancy when he could have it warm from the stove, and Tony almost liked him a bit better for that.

There were three other persons in the room, two women and a young man. One was the driver from yesterday, the other woman was smaller, less muscular and much older with gray strands in her once gold-blond hair and a practical dress topped with an apron. The man was wearing an apron as well over jeans and a black shirt, decorated with smears of floor and something yellow that could be egg yolk.

They all looked a bit curious, and since none of them were looking like Louis or wearing collars he suspected they were the rest of the household.

Louis greeted them without a second’s thought, than proceeded to introduce Tony.

The younger woman nodded. "Sigyn.", she said, before returning to her breakfast - scrambled eggs and ham, some toast, and a slice of red pepper.

That seemed to break the ice. The other woman came to him and extended her hand, took hold of his shoulder to hug him lightly when he grasped it. "I'm Mary, the housekeeper here. Welcome, Anthony."

Warmth bloomed in his chest upon her gesture. He hadn't been treated like a normal person for months. Swallowing he mumbled a "Thanks."

The guy just nodded at him before asking: "What do you want your eggs with? Toast or brown bread?"

The realization that he would indeed get the same as his master nearly broke him again and he was almost grateful for the guy for deciding for him. 

"Toast, I think. And tea - I don't think his stomach can stand much else."

Jean nodded and began preparing the water while Louis strode some more paces into the room, only pausing when he found Tony still lingering in the doorway. Seeing that these green eyes were upon him he hurried after, pausing only next to the chair Louis had sat down in, looking for a cue what he was to do.

Louis didn't leave him waiting. "You may sit or kneel on the floor next to me, whatever suits you best."

Tony paused, then reluctantly went down on the floor, sitting cross-legged. None of his other owners would have permitted this and he felt himself go tense in anticipation of punishment even though Louis had clearly stated that he could sit if he wanted to. But not only was he not punished; no-one commented on him or even looked down on him. He could have been a rather eccentric member of the household, right down to the moment when Jean asked him if he wanted sugar or honey with his tea.

He stared a moment then asked for honey. And only a moment later he had a dish with some scrambled eggs and a slice of toast as well as some ham on it standing before him. A fork followed, then a rather big cup of tea. The sweet smell of camomile was welcome since it did remind him of Bruce, of all the people outside who still loved him. Again there were tears in his eyes and he tried to suppress them.

How could it be that he had cried not once in this whole five months whatever had been done to him, but that this man and his employees with her kindness brought him to the brink of it two times in less then an hour?

He swallowed the lump in his throat down, then took a piece of the eggs and couldn't fully smother the appreciating moan that the taste made want to break free. 

"Good?", Jean inquired and he answered unhesitatingly: "Oh, yes. Heaven."

The guy laughed, but it was a good natured laugh, nothing to feel shame about. He was really just happy that Tony liked his meal.

Tony looked at the guy and couldn't help but wonder what a guy like him did have to do with a man like Louis, and if that made Jean worse or Louis better than he appeared.


	6. Office

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki's thoughts about Tony's behaviour. A misunderstanding. Beginning of a quiet morning.

It was good to see that the others played their part, and even more to see the moment when they became aware of how essential it was that they did. A sudden urge to strangle everyone that ever had laid a hand on Anthony had come over Loki the moment he had felt him shiver under him on the bed, the time it had taken for Anthony to relax even slightly under his stroking hand, and seeing how the man reacted to the simple notion of breakfast - he had expected something less then the rest of them would be getting, no doubt, and was then overwhelmed by the choice between two kinds of bread - had made the fire in his veins only hotter. He would find them, he promised himself, and either he would let Anthony squash them himself or, if the man wasn't up to the task, rip them apart. Literally.

But at the moment Anthony was relatively content sitting beside his chair, eating a light breakfast. It wasn't much, but then Loki didn't think that he had been getting much over the last months or he wouldn't have been barely skin and bones. And he really didn't want to chance that Anthony had to vomit his meal up - rather he would offer him a second meal later, should he be hungry by then.

A small smile curled his lips when he became aware of how possessive he sounded - how much like a real pet owner. Sigyn was right - Anthony Stark was dangerous, even if it was in a whole other way then she had suspected.

Speaking of Sigyn; the woman was still not fully convinced that this was a good idea and was looking at the man as if he might spring up every moment and use his fork on Loki - once a bodyguard, always a bodyguard, he supposed, even though the pure notion made him smile. Aside from the fact that Loki was much faster than a human ever could hope to be he didn't think Anthony would be getting up fast in the next time - he was much to weary, and the way he had inhaled the tea seemed like he hadn't been getting enough fluid for some time, or as if he suspected such a time could be coming again.

Again fury curled is hands in fists, but he suppressed the growl in his throat - it would only serve to startle an already frightened man. 

"Do you want some more tea?", Jean asked, and Anthony looked up, nodded warily.

How anyone could be frightened by Jean was beyond Loki, but he was grateful that the boy had come to terms with the way he was to treat Anthony. At first he had been death set against it, but after some explanation he had relented and now seemed to be contend with it. 

Mary had been even worse, at first (if that was even possible), but after he explained his reasoning she had nodded and then even agreed. 

After this little demonstration he didn't think one of them would disagree again.

 

?Â¿

 

They finished the meal in silence, then he took the stairs up to his study. When he saw Anthony wince when he had to use the stairs he remembered the burn on his back and the gel Lee had given him. He felt in his pocket for it and was relieved to find it there - he didn't want to drag Anthony upstairs again, but also didn't dare leave him alone.

Some minutes later they reached the door and he opened it. There was no key - he had spells in place to keep intruders out, and anyone who could pass them didn't have to worry about a lock.

His working room was similar to his room at his firm - a tidied-up table in the middle of the room, a comfortable leather executive chair on the one side, one rather hard chair on the other - he never met people in his home office he liked. A wall full of folders, another with a shelf filled with books. A picture of a horse running along a beach. A palm, two hip high cactuses to bring some green in the room, though he much preferred the green he could see from the window.

For a moment he considered opening it but then decided that it would be much to tempting for Anthony, at least for the moment, and he could do without the man trying to off himself by jumping out of the window. With a last glance he made sure that everything was in order and the heater on a high enough setting that Anthony wouldn’t be cold - he had instructed Mary to take care of that, but that didn’t mean he didn’t feel better checking it for himself again - then he turned to the man that had stopped just a couple of strides inside the door. "Bend over the table.", he said.

Anthony went tense so fast, his face closing up even more than before and he cursed himself for sounding like he intended to ... yes, what? In that position he could both rape and punch him, and Anthony had no way to know that he would never do that. On the other side ... he was seldom so careless with his words, but it could happen, and he would have to show the man that he would never do whatever he thought his words might imply. And so he just watched motionless as the man walked over to the table, braced himself with both hands on the other side and bend over it, presenting his ass as if that was what Loki was after.

He watched the process, looked at the picture the man was presenting, and wondered how many people had seen him like that. So much like a wanton whore - like someone who wanted to be taken, or punished. A growl grew in his throat again, and he had to consciously refrain himself from letting it out.

"I said, _bend over_.", he said, just a small growl vibrating in his voice. "Not _present your arse_ , like I would want to shove my cock up it, or hit it. Do you remember what I told you?"

Anthony was clearly on the brink, his shoulders cramped, as he spoke, with a quiet voice: "You won't hit me. You won't ... rape me."

"Exactly.", agreed Loki. "Now bend over the table."

Slowly the man lowered himself down until his chest rested on the polished wooden surface of the table, right between the monitor and the phone. Loki strode forward equally unhastily, put his hand lightly on the other’s back. A shiver went down that strong back - strong even though the muscles had declined, a strength born from pride - and he slowly, steadily began rubbing over the skin, less petting and more massaging. The human held his tense position for some more minutes before relaxing, small by small bit. A soft noise came from him, a kind of whimper, and Loki suspected that he wasn't even aware of it. 

It didn't matter; had he been aware he would probably just try to stop it and then all of Loki's work would be undone when he went tense again.

"That's going to be a little cold now.", he warned and took his hands way, opening the cap of the tube. Naturally Anthony did tense up when he spoke and took his hands away, but upon feeling the cold gel on his burn mark he just groaned lightly in a rather grateful way. Loki smirked and looked at the tube again, saw that it was just a normal burn-salve, and proceeded to use it as a lubricant to stroke better over the skin on his pet's back.

This time the groan was even louder, and he felt that the relaxing this time was conscious - Anthony _chose_ to trust him, at least a bit, and that made him feel so honored as he had not even felt when someone went down on his knees before him. Again he swore himself that he would protect this man until he could do so himself. 

After a while he regretfully took his hands away from the warm skin - it’s once so wonderful gold-brown tone faded - and went around the table to open one of the drawers. Inside lay, side by side, three small bottles of water. It was Mary’s way to make sure that he drank something even though he was to much wrapped up in his work to go down to the kitchen or just call for one of them.

He took one out and reached into his pocket, finding and retrieving the slightly squashed tablet box. When he looked up he found himself observed by the man who still hadn't gone up. Though if that was because he feared the consequences or because the interesting part happened directly in front of him Loki could not say.

He very slowly showed the man the package, let him read the name and effect of the medicine, before popping one of the tablets out and giving it to the other. Anthony took the pill with slight hesitation, then put it in his mouth and swallowed it down. 

Loki rolled his eyes. Lee had first told him about that annoying habit of the humans, and also of how not good that was. Not that Loki needed a doctor to tell him that; there were a lot of medicines in the other realms as well which could get stuck in the esophagus and do damage there to not know that it was better to drink some water with a tablet.

So he just shoved the bottle in Anthony’s direction and saw him greedily unscrewing the cap before emptying the whole bottle. His brow switched a little bit; that was more than just a normal need.

He refrained from commenting on it, even if just due to the fact that he didn't think that Anthony would like that line of questioning. Instead he nodded for him to get up. "You may chose a book and sit beside me, or lay down and sleep, I don't care either way. Just stay in this room and be quiet."

He saw the human bristle at being told to act like a pet, then decide to not go in an argument with the man that could make his life a living hell if he so wished to do. Sorrow filled Loki's chest as he saw the spark of Tony Stark die down again and he just went to look over the books. Some minutes later he returned to Loki's side, sat down with his back to the side of the table and began diving down in the adventures of someone called Odysseus.

Loki's brow switched again. He hadn't been aware that Anthony could read Greek.

The man proved to be more and more interesting. And Loki would have all the time he wanted to unravel the mystery that was Tony Stark.


	7. A locked door

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Having a lock can mean the difference between being human and being a slave ...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> not sure if that counts as eventfull or not, but it's pretty important. Allso - sorry for frightening you in the last chapter. I dont intend for Loki to ever go back on his promise.

After the way the day had started Tony hadn't expected such a quiet morning. 

Breakfast had been heavenly - even though the Mistress had made sure that they got enough to eat, it hadn't been enough to really be full, and the taste had been ... edible. But this ... Jean was certainly a good cook, and he saw no reason to not express this opinion. Not that he wouldn't have done so anyway; if he wanted to escape he would obviously need help, and if the other household members liked him they might help him.

Not Sigyn, though. The woman gave him the creeps, if he was honest, with her stare and the way she held herself like a fighter. Not just the driver, he decided. Probably also the bodyguard.

But Mary and Jean seemed likable enough and he wondered how they had fallen in with someone like Louis.

The small dish he had been getting turned out to be enough to fill his stomach. He hadn't eaten something like that in weeks, and his stomach had problems getting used to it.

So he was ready when Louis got up and took him to a room that turned out to be his study. Interested he took everything in; aside from the painting and the missing chaos it could have been a twin of Tony's office in the Tower, but then there probably wasn’t much one could do to make an office seem unique.

The order the man gave him hit him like a cold shower, made him tense all over with the startling realization that he actually had begun to lower his guard around him.

A wrong decision as he could see now. Obviously the man had used this method to get his trust, and now he would use it to make it all a little bit worse.

Gritting his teeth he went over to the table, bracing his hands at the opposite edge and bending over, trying to relax his cramped muscles - whatever was to come, it would be easier to accept if he wasn't this tense.

He could feel the other's gaze on him, the ... fury? ... that radiated from him. And than the disapproving words, the comment that he hadn't expected. 

Louis did really not want to use him?

Slowly, distrusting, he lowered himself on the table, heard his master draw near. Felt the hand that he had come to know even in this short time rubbing over his back, kneading in the tense muscles till he relaxed a bit more. It felt so good to be cared for, and even if a part of him screamed that he shouldn't relax, shouldn't accept this petting, that he should get up and _fight_ ... he had fought for months now, and he didn't regret it, but he didn't want to fight now. Louis might be a kidnapper and slave owner, but at least he was kind to him, and he cared.

Cared enough to treat his burn mark - the mark he had almost forgotten about, even though it was a bit difficult to do so when every bigger movement seemed to use these muscles and strained the skin. He groaned when he felt the coldness, pushed a little in the grip of these hands, and was rewarded with a second massage, this time aided by the slippery lubricant.

The feeling of the gel on his back reminded him of Louis' comment in the bedroom, when he had spoken about a doctor's recommendations. He had thought it nothing more but a figure of speech, but the ointment and then the tablets told another story.

So Louis had actually called a doctor in. A doctor who, probably, was himself equally loyal to the man as the others he had met today. He couldn't believe it. How could someone as kind as these people approve of kidnapping? (Except if the doctor was a Frankenstein-kind-of-type, and wasn’t this just the right moment to realize that watching horror movies could be a bit problematic?)

When Louis told him to either sleep or read he needed only a moment to think about it. The day had been a little straining - and he would curse the Mistress, if not for fear what his new master might say, for the forced stillness in the small cage - but he had slept well and long and didn't think he would need to rest again in the next time. So he strode over to the shelf, looked over the books Louis had offered him.

The combination was baffling. Indian myths, some Nordic tales, a book that seemed to be a children’s book about the myths of the aborigines. A Spanish book full of poems. There even were books in languages he couldn’t identify, but he _could_ identify the mathematical formulas and charts he saw when he opened them and leaved through. 

Shaking his head a bit he chose the odyssey, hoping his Greek would be up to the task (he had had Greek in the school and the had even grazed old Greek, but he hadn't had a possibility to really use it in years. Beside, you know, use it to impress women.) At least it would give his mind something else to do than uselessly spinning in circles.

And it was certainly peaceful to sit hear, his head resting against the side of the table, the slow breathing of another being above him. From time to time Louis would leave through a folder, sometimes he stood up and took another out of the shelves. There was also the PC standing on the table. Unwillingly curious he turned his head when he heard it powering up, gave a small disapproving hiss when he caught the melody of apple.

Louis laughed low and full of affection. "Sorry, Anthony. I fear I do not own any kind of your technology."

A blush colored his cheeks red, but the statement made him also more curious. The man had said _his_ technology. What had happened with his company after he disappeared? He had thought about it in the beginning, but soon it had lost it's meaning to him. After all, he could be relatively sure that Pepper would care for his company - their breaking up had been on friendly terms, and he had never and would never change his last will, leaving his company in her care.

But he couldn't ask. He did not know what Louis would do if he did, and if he would take it as a sign of Tony acting up.

They sat there for some hours, Louis taking out a mobile and calling some members of his company at one time, telling them he wouldn't come in for at least the rest of the week. He also asked his secretary - must be a nice man from the way he irritated his boss, reminded him of the way Pepper used to speak to him - to cancel every appointment he had this week and only send him a text about the ones he couldn't cancel.

That made him curious enough to stare at them man. He acted like he hadn't known that he would get a new slave, like it was something unexpected that he had to change his plans for. Also - _why_ did he change his plans? He could just leave Tony here, locked in a room under the constant supervision of his employees. There was no need to stay with him the way he did.

No need, aside from the fact that he had promised Tony to show him that he would be treated friendly. And Tony knew enough about ßacquiring a pet to know that you should stay close to it in the first time, to get it's trust and friendship.

His eyes widened. He hadn't thought about it this way, but yes - Louis really did treat him like a pet. A frightened pet whose earlier owners had treated it bad enough to make it run even from the hand that petted it.

He didn't know what he should do about this realization. On one hand - _he was no pet_! He was a _human_ , he had _rights_ and he wanted them to be _acknowleged_. But on the other hand ... was it so bad to be cared for, to not have to think about anything? To get sleep and meals, and, if Louis went down that road even more, also some toys to play with when his owner wasn't there to entertain him himself.

Speaking of which - there was something he really had to take care of now.

Blushing he put the book aside and looked up at the man who at the moment seemed intend on whatever he had found in his papers. Nervously he licked his lips, then stood up slowly - he didn't want to speak up, but he was sure that rising to his feet would catch the man’s attention all right.

And really, Louis looked up at him with a raised eyebrow.

Tony licked his lip again, then said: "I need a bathroom."

Praying he wouldn't have to beg like with his previous owners - or, even worse, have to wait until Louis called someone up to go with him - he felt his limbs tremble under the look Louis gave him.

"The second door to the left.", Louis said and Tony couldn't believe it. It must be plainly visible on his face because Louis added: "I trust you know that the consequences for doing anything else will be ... unpleasant."

Tony nodded. It didn't matter - he couldn't believe his luck. Could it be really this easy to go to the loo? No escort, no humiliation beforehand? Swallowing dry he slowly backed away, always expecting the call to return, but Louis just watched him for a moment before returning his attention back to the papers in front of him.

The door opened under his light touch and he took care to close it as quietly as possible, not wanting to disturb Louis. The floor was empty, though he could hear the sound of a vacuum cleaner from the upper floor as well as a slightly off-key-singing male voice. Jean.

He went down the floor. There were five doors on this side, three and the open stairway to his right. The second door was simple, with a little table and a vase beside it (reminded him of hotels, if he was honest) and opened equally easy under his hand. There was a basin on one hand and a toilet on the other, some towels hanging from a rack directly next to the window. He swallowed; there was also a key that would give him a privacy he hadn't known for some time now. 

Slowly he turned it, not sure what he expected, but in the end nothing happened aside from him being alone - really alone, and safe - for the first time in five fucking months.

Tears that had only threatened until now began springing up in his eyes, running down his cheeks. He felt his chest heave under the sobs that threatened to come free and then decided to not give a damn anymore and let them escape, dry, broken sounds echoing in the little room. Shaking he broke down to his knees, rolled into himself and grabbed his ankles, not caring that he had gone in a fetus position. It just felt so good - so good to be able to let go, to let all this strain, his fear and hurt flow free.

Tony couldn’t know if anyone was still searching for him - he had given up hope a long time ago, hope that he would be free one day again, hope for friendliness, for human warmth, to be treated like being with emotions and a brain and the ability to be _hurt_ , the _worth_ to _not be_ again. Laying on this cold tiles he cried it all out, all the despair, the hurt, the hopelessness.

He didn't know how long he lay there, though he wondered briefly why no-one had come to look after him. But it didn't really matter in the moment. It wasn't that he felt better now so much as that he felt empty and numb.

In the end he was able to drag himself up, went to the toilet and made sure to clean his hands after it. The simple fact that he could do that - clean himself up after - nearly brought him to tears again. In the cage he had only had a small hole in the ground, covered by a lid, to do his business, no water to wash other than the daily (cold) shower and worst of all no privacy - and while it was possible to grow accustomed to being naked all the time, and even to the collar, it was a whole other level of humiliation to piss when eleven strangers were in the same room as him, not to mention the fact that he still suspected that they had cameras in the room. 

He didn't even want to think about what his owners had made him do.

Slowly he straightened up again, dried his tears and used the edge of a towel to clear the tracks of them from his cheeks. There was no way to hide the redness and the puffiness of his eyes so he would have to hope that Louis wouldn't see them.

Another deep breath, then he opened the door again and went out once more, down the corridor to the study.

Louis was standing beside the shelf when he came in and he found his breath hitching - he hadn't expected him this close, not so suddenly - but he pretended nothing had startled him and went again over to the table, sitting himself down beside it and taking the book to clear his mind again and hide his face in the shadows.


	8. Lunch

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm seriously beginning to think about not giving my chapters titles anymore. They are just crap.
> 
> Also, on a more serious note: I'm actually really overwhelmed by the response to this little baby of mine. Thanks to everyone who's commenting, kudoing (is that a word?) or just reading this story. It always makes my day when I see that there is someone out there who likes this.

At first he had thought Anthony had used the opportunity to escape when he took so long on the toilet, but a quick check of the enchanted collar demented that (and he really hoped that the man wouldn't try to remove the collar again since he had used magic to lock it when he had put it back on the man, and that would be a little difficult to explain). Then he remembered the lock on the toilet door and felt something clench in his chest. Of course - the man probably hadn't had even a moment's privacy for a very long time now, and seeing that lock ... he could only hope that he would return on his own before Loki had to make him. That wouldn’t be conducive to his plans to get the man’s trust.

He went over the papers again, eventually took some others out to compare numbers (he never listed all this in his computer, much to easy for someone like Tony Stark to hack into his data), when he heard Anthony coming back. A light noise when the door opened and he reacted instinctive, turned around and looked up, even though he wouldn't mix this footsteps up with others anymore now that he had committed them to memory. Anthony flinched at seeing him so near - he had probably unconsciously expected him at the table - and the movement gave him time to see the signs of tears in his red eyes.

Oh. 

That evidence that Anthony had cried gave him pause. Was it so bad for him to be here? Had he made a mistake in taking him in as a pet, should he have taken him back to the tower? He still thought that it wouldn't be good for the man, was still convinced that it would break him to have to act like a normal man again, and being forced to exact his revenge so shortly after this was done to him ... no, that couldn't be good. But maybe he should have used another approach ... should he have told him something about altruistic feelings, or another story he had made up? Probably not - as soon as the man was back a bit more he would be able to tell the lie.

Meanwhile Anthony had gone straight over to the table, settled down again and taken the book up, some pages in.

The sight stilled his fears. Anthony didn't look exactly comfortable there, but also not as if he wanted to bolt immediately. Probably being a pet to Louis was better than anything he had expected, and he just had to get used to it. He also appeared quieter to Loki's schooled eye, as if crying had taken some strain from him. 

Maybe it wasn't as bad as he has thought. If Anthony felt comfortable enough in his house to become as vulnerable as to let himself crying he may even already be on the road to trust Loki. And while that was probably the most cruel joke the norns could play a man - making one of his biggest enemies the one - maybe only - person he might on day be able to trust enough - it's something Loki did not want him to have to regret. He wanted Anthony safe, and healthy, and whole once more, and wasn’t this terrifying in itself?

 

?Â¿

 

He had given Anthony another water bottle shortly after the bathroom incident, but aside from that the man hadn't made a comment about hunger or thirst. That changed when the smell from the kitchen wavered in the room, and it wasn't exactly the man himself who told him that he was hungry but more so his growling stomach.

A light hiss and a blush told him that Anthony was uncomfortable with his body's demands, but he decided to ignore that. The man would learn that neither Loki nor one of his employees would use this ever against him. 

Instead he looked at his watch and said, his voice carefully free of any undertone that might make the man uncomfortable: "Jean should be ready in around thirty minutes. Do you think you can wait until then or do you need something before?"

The man startled again, and to see someone like him - someone who was, no doubt there, used to eating whenever he was hungry and getting whatever he lusted after - being startled by the question if he wanted to eat when it was so painfully obvious that he had hunger ... it made the fury that hadn't really subsided in Loki's belly since the moment he had first lain eyes on the man in that cage roar even higher. He wanted to find everyone who was involved with the abduction of Tony Stark and beat the shit out of them. Before killing them and bringing them back, repeatedly.

It also made him wonder about the other slaves, just a bit. There could be others like his Anthony - others with a heart like a fire and a mind like a star, waiting for a rescue that never would come. Maybe he would give Anthony some other clues as well when he let him go ...

"I'm ... I'm good. I can wait." The words were hasty, and Loki wasn't sure he should trust them, but there was another aspect to consider in this: he had asked Anthony a question, and not just any question, but one about his own body. To simply ignore the answer would be like telling him his opinion didn't matter, or that Loki knew better than him what he needed. No, he wanted Anthony to heal. He wouldn't do that when Loki gave him the feeling that he didn't matter.

So he just made an acknowledging sound and returned to his papers, ignoring the occasional low rumble of Anthony's stomach.

It was really not even half an hour later that the low gong Jean used to call them rang through the house. And while he normally had problems to leave his work there was no hesitation now. Anthony wasn't the only hungry one, and Loki relished the empty feeling in his stomach that had been missed so long, had been suppressed by the all-consuming anxiety that had filled him.

The thought gave him a moment’s pause - why would Anthony's arrival here chase the nervousness away? - but the not-quiet begging eyes of the man let him hurry on, first in the bathroom, then down the stairs.

Jean looked rather surprised to see him - like everyone else he had become used to Loki being the last one at the table - but then his eyes fell on Anthony and an almost disturbingly thoughtful expression appeared on his face.

Though the most disturbing part was probably go see it mirrored in Sigyn's and a moment later even in Mary's face.

Luckily Anthony's stomach made another growling noise and brought the looks upon the once again blushing mortal. It could have been funny, the way he reacted, if not for the fact that he also began to tremble again lightly, obviously not used anymore to stares like that being anything else then something bad. Loki reached out and put his hand on the other's lower back, his fingers spread in a possessive gesture that made the man gasp lightly, but also relax. A little pressure and Anthony began walking again, followed him to his chair and sank down on his knees without prompt this time. 

Jean began filling the plates - gemelli with spinach, scalloped with a lot of cheese - and set them down, one again filled for the man sitting on the floor beside Loki.

He still seemed to be wary - ate only after everyone else had taken a bite, as if unsure if he would be punished otherwise - but he had obviously great hunger and Loki couldn't hold that against the man; even the few paces he had taken and the reading in Loki's study had probably used up a lot more energy then he was used to, not to mention the strain to find himself in an absolutely new and possible hostile environment. It was a small wonder the man hadn't succumbed to slumber somewhere through the morning.

But then Loki wasn't so other, was he? Because as soon as he got a taste of this wonderful meal he felt his hunger three times worse and just emptied the dish in record time. Jean grinned proudly - one of the other reasons the man stayed with him was his joy about having someone who didn't worry about his shape while eating the best meals he could procure - and filled his plate again.

He was halfway through his second serving when he saw Anthony looking hungrily up to him, his plate as clean as it could get without being licked. He hesitated a moment, then asked: "Do you think your stomach can handle a second plate?"

Anthony looked a bit frightened for a moment - undoubtly thinking how his answer could be used against him - before he answered: "A bit more, yes, please."

Jean didn't need to be told to get up and fill the plate again, smiling when he put it down. "If you ever leave the table hungry I'll take this as a personal insult.", he threatened lightly and to Loki's surprise Anthony didn't seemed frightened by the comment. 

Instead he smiled a bit and said: "Then I will try to never do that.", before devouring the second helping.

For the rest of the meal Loki had half an eye on the man but he seemed okay, though a bit sleepy after he finished his second plate. No wonder, the strain and a full belly would do that. It was lucky that he had nowhere to be today - the next time he needed to leave the house was tomorrow -, so Anthony would be able to sleep while he was working in his study.

Finishing his meal - four plates, and he only felt comfortably full; he really must have been ignoring his body in the last weeks - he laid a hand in Anthony's neck to get his attention and, when he had it, stood up and returned to the study. Sigyn raised her eyebrows - normally he would have used the time for a little spare with her - but he just shook his head and indicated the man following him with dragging shoulders and heavy lids. Understanding lit her eyes up and she nodded, turned to Jean and tried to talk him into a sparring session (he wished her luck; the boy was good, but also bright enough to know that Sigyn was some numbers to good for him).

When they reached the study he immediately took a soft blanket out of one drawer and put it on the floor beside the table, at the place Anthony had been sitting the whole morning. It wasn't as thick as the rug he had in Loki's room, but it would do together with the comfortable warmth in the room and the rug laying under it.

Anthony hesitated only a moment, then laid down and was asleep within moments.


	9. Tour de house

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony's seeing a bit more of the house

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you'll enjoy it.

It took him some time to realize where he was. He was laying on a soft blanket that smelled of herbs and forest; a very comfortable smell that relaxed him. His stomach was full and he felt safe for the first time in longer than he really wanted to think about. His consciousness returned slowly while he listened to a quiet tapping - fingers on a keyboard, a sluggish thought flittered through his hazy mind - and flattering papers. 

There was warmth all around him and even though he was still not wearing something he didn't feel as exposed anymore. 

The memory of the day came slowly back. Having a new owner. Leaving the mistress' house. The car, being drugged. Waking up to learn that his new owner intended to keep him as a pet. Breakfast - real, healthy breakfast. The study, the bathroom. Heavenly lunch, being allowed to eat as much as he wanted.

Slowly he opened his eyes. He was still in the office room, but it was darker now. Decembre, he remembered, so probably around three in the afternoon. Louis hadn't lighted the lamps, his only light was a small lamp situated on the table, the light carefully shielded so it wouldn't shine in Tony's face. 

He put his hands on the floor, pushed himself up in a kneeling position.

Realizing he was awake Louis took a break from his work, looked down at him. Whatever he read there made him smile a bit - nothing even remotely evil but the relaxed and surprised smile of someone who's pet is unexpectedly funny. He reached his hand out - slowly, oh so slowly, as if Tony was an animal that could easily startle - and touched his face, took hold of a strand to pull it back behind Tony's ear.

"Would you like a haircut?", he asked softly.

Tony flinched unthinkingly. Yes, his hair was longer than it ever was before, but ... there was this one guy - one of the persons he actually did business with once, and if that's not a thought to make him lose faith in his own knowledge of human nature then he did not know what was - who did try to act nice - in the beginning. Not that Tony had trusted him, but he wasn't as far gone then as he was now, and he agreed to the cut.

The end result was ... disturbing ... and left him with the fierce determination that he would be a free man for his next cut or never get one again.

Louis seemed to get all that without Tony having to put it in words, or maybe whatever it said on his face was enough indicator about how much he did not want scissors anywhere near his throat, for he just nodded and said: "Then we will just have to make sure that your hair sees enough of a hairbrush to stay tidy, and maybe a clasp in your neck." His voice took on a lower, even softer tone: "Would you like that, Anthony? Me brushing your hair while you sit between my knees, feeling as safe as a newborn child?"

The image rendered him speechless, something that seemed to happen more and more with this fucker. Before he could find his voice Louis smiled and asked: "Would you like to see more of the house, Anthony? Of your new home?"

And he really didn't like to be treated like a small child or a pet. Really _really_ not. So why did his chest warm up whenever he called him Anthony, and why did he not tell him _No_ , because, really, what good will it do him to see the house if he is only to go where Louis goes?

As it was he just nodded and followed silently when the guy left the room. They first went up - maybe because Tony would sleep here with Louis, maybe for another reason he couldn't fathom, and maybe for no reason at all. Though they actually started in the attic where there were two rooms Louis told him were Mary's and Jean's, as well as another in which, as he stated, the doctor slept when he stayed over night. He even let Tony look in the latter room - a simple bedroom, but absolutely clean and with table and chair looking like "A Hotel room.", he said surprised.

Louis chuckled. "That's what I tell him, too. But then the good doctor isn't living with us so I think he is allowed to have his stuff at his actual house."

Tony was surprised - Louis' attitude to the doctor's behavior had something of the kind one would tolerate a pet's odditys with. Maybe the reason Mary and Jean were so understanding of his position in the house was because that was just the way Louis treated people. People he liked, probably. So maybe he could get promoted to being a person again ...

The next room actually took his breath away. It was a small studio - "Mary likes to draw, you see, and Sigyn sometimes plays." - filled with some of the most beautiful pictures he had ever seen, as well as a piano made of gleaming red-brown wood and ivory-keys. The fading light touched it all with smoky red-gold fingers, made it seem ethereal in a way he had seen New York one day in the light of the setting sun after a thunderstorm when flying around in his suit.

A sudden longing took his breath away, and he felt himself wishing for his home, for his friends in a way he hadn't in months, not even under the worst of torture. Hastily he left the room before Louis could see it, could read the vulnerability on his face.

Though he wasn't sure if Louis really was fooled the guy motioned him down the stairs again, indicating there the room for himself and Tony - and no, that was _no_ shiver that ran over his spine when the fucker so casually included him in his life and bedroom - as well as the room of Sigyn. Another room was what Louis declared the living room - two comfortable looking couches, two armchairs, a wood-and-glass table, a fireplace. TV, a bar and something that looked suspiciously like a Wii, also a door leading to a small loo. There were two other rooms on the floor, both guest rooms, but the way Louis talked about them, and let Tony look in, indicated that they wouldn't be used much.

As if reading his fears Louis said: "Don't worry, I'm not sharing you with anyone else. In this house no-one but us and the doctor will ever touch you. And no-one is allowed to degrade or hurt what is mine."

Not _No-one will see you_ , but then he couldn't really make restrictions for the guy who owned him, Tony thought. And it could have been much _much_ worse as he knew from experience.

The next floor were the office room, a second office for Mary which looked rather unused, a library that could put his own in Malibu to shame - and the books looked _used!_ \- as well as two as of yet unused rooms that would probably end up being part of the library as well if the cartons sitting beside on door was a clue. 

In the ground floor they first found Mary, sitting at a chair in the salon and going over books. "That's the reason her office is never used.", Louis said amused. "She much rather likes to sit here where she can't be distracted by thinking about my unwholesome working routine."

"It is bad.", Mary scolded. "I'm just amazed you actually made is through your adolescence."

A smile curled Louis' lips. "I would state that I'm not as bad but I think I have to thank superior genetics for that.", he mused.

Mary pushed him lightly in the side. "Don't you go all superior on me, young man. I've seen things you can only dreams of."

The smile never wavered and if not for the fact that Tony was still watching him he would never have seen the fleeting expression on his face, the age in this spring green eyes. "I would never dream of comparing myself to you, my lovely Miss.", he said, taking her hand and bowing over it in a gesture as old as it was endearing.

And wonderfully able to hide his face and what was painted on it.

They left the salon through the other door which lead them to something akin to a ballroom. 

Tony's jaw dropped. Not even the tower had something like that. "You're giving parties often?", he asked without thinking.

Horrified about this behavior he ducked only a moment later. What if Louis took offense about it - ?

But Louis just grinned. "Not as often as this room deserves.", he chuckled, pretending he hadn't seen Tony's reaction. Then he cocked his head to the side. "You already know the kitchen, and the basement isn't really that interesting. There is a hobby room there, and the garage, but I think Sigyn would be better suited to take you there. You probably know more about the cars I own than I do and you've only seen one so far." He smiled and Tony couldn't help but agree. Even frightened half out of his mind and thinking about nothing but his future he still hadn't been able to not take notice of the Mercedes. "If you think you can behave yourself we can go outside. I don't believe you've seen much of a garden since you've been taken."

The pure thought drove anything else out of his mind. _Going outside!_ Louis was right - he hadn't been outside since that day in the alley, not counting the half-hour at the Mistress' house. None of his owners had thought it important, and his once gold-brown skin had bleached to a more sickly white-gold tone he just couldn't get used to. 

And Louis actually asked him out. _Allowed_ him to go.

"Please, yes.", he whispered, afraid the guy might take notice of his longing and abuse it, but also unable to hide it if it meant he would feel the sun again.

Louis smiled, reached out and slowly, carefully, stroked through his hair. The gentle contact was almost as good as the words he said, in a warm, loving tone: "Do not fear, Anthony. I don't intend to keep you locked up all day. You're my sweet little pet, and I told you that I would take care of you."

Even though everything in him bristled about being called a pet Tony couldn't deny that the tone made him melt on the inside. He knew what happened - him being hungry for kind skin contact, for a loving word, sucking up everything Louis gave him - but he couldn't fully suppress the small purr coming up his throat, even when embarrassment colored his cheeks a bright red.

Louis just smiled about it. "Come.", he invited and took the few steps to the door, opening it without further hesitation, but stopping midway through the process and looking back at Tony. "Don't ever go outside without someone going along. You won't like what will happen then, Anthony."

The weird thing? It didn't sound like a threat. It sounded like a concerned warning.


	10. A walk in the park

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> exactly what it says in the title

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for not updating yesterday. Had to work longer than expected and wasn't up to check the chapter again.  
> Hope you'll enjoy it ;)

Seeing Anthony in the sun ... it was like seeing a man encountering heaven. Even though he tried to suppress it - out of a fear Loki would have to make him forget, undoubtly - there was a joy, a glow on his features no self restraint could ever hope to hide.

Immediately after taking a step in the grayish afternoon light he had put his head in his neck, looking up and closing his eyes, bathing in what little he could get from the fading sun like a sunflower after being denied her namesake. His feet were planted strongly, his whole body was held with a pride he hadn't seemed to feel before, and the simple joy on his face ... Loki wanted to burn everyone down who ever thought to lay a hand on this man, who had a hand in reducing him to a being that wasn't even used to the comfort of wind and sun anymore. Even in his darkest days in Asgard no-one had thought to take that from him, even if he was only allowed out of his cage for an hour each day, followed by a fourth of guards and often enough Thor or - more wanted - mother. Asgard was a warrior’s home and had hard rules, but to be locked away and never see the sun again ... one had to have done a _really_ evil deed to be sentenced to that. 

But even the joy couldn't hide the way shivers ran over Anthony's skin and goose bumps popped up on his bare flesh. With a jolt Loki remembered the delicacy of humans, their need for cloth when encountering such temperatures as today, and worried about Anthony's health he returned inside to retrieve a covering - the joy the man was feeling upon seeing the sun made even the thought to take him back in so shortly after allowing him outside seem cruel. 

There were many coats hanging in the closet and he blindly chose a longer one he sometimes wore for bigger celebrations. It wouldn't normally do, but he wove a quick spell into the fabric to keep his pet warm - he never understood why his teacher thought he should learn it as he had never felt cold, but today he was grateful to the old witch - before he took it out again. Anthony still stood where he had left him, unaware of the invisible spirits hovering around and gazing curiously at him. Even they had heard of Tony Stark, the man who could grant a soul to mere machines, and having him here fascinated them. 

The sight curled his lips, a small smile forming at the thought of what Anthony would say could he see this, know this. He had asked the spirits to not show themselves to the man, finding himself unwilling to spook him further, so it was an idle thought, but he couldn't help wonder nevertheless.

Slowly he paced over to the man, intentionally letting his feet make noise in the gravel beside the way so he wouldn't startle the man to much. Still, he flinched, looking up like a deer ready to bolt, and he felt a twinge of ... _something_ in his chest. Ignoring it he closed the distance and put the coat around the freezing man's shoulders, only now seeing that his lips were turning blue and his skin was becoming even whiter than before. Worried he felt himself gnaw a bit on his lower lip.

Caught up in his worry it took him a moment to see that the man hadn't made a move to wear the mantle properly and he raised his hands almost angry; why couldn't the stupid mortal do anything by himself?

As if hearing that thought, or maybe reading it on Loki's face, Anthony put a hand on the front of the mantle, pulled it in a bit closer. The slow, careful move, the almost dreaming way he acted cleared Loki's head. Had he ... had the mortal _really_ not worn any cloths in all this time? Not even as cover against coldness? It seemed ludicrous, and yet ... the way the man acted stated that it was the truth. Since he hadn't been allowed outside covers probably had never been needed, but still it was cruel. In his years here on Midgard Loki had made some discoverys about the human nature, one being that for them wearing clothes was one way to define being human (seemed to have something to do with a tale in their greatest fairy tale book - _bible_ , if he recalled correctly - in which two persons got thrown out of paradise for eating an apple. He still wasn't sure about the morale of the story, but then he probably lacked the background to do so). So keeping clothes from Anthony meant in fact that his owners had kept the right to be human from him. And while Loki in effect did the same - by the Norns, he even called him _pet_ \- he couldn't help but feel that there was a difference, even if it was just in the reason he did it for. 

He took Anthony's choices away, yes, but he did it so he could heal without the stress to decide things he didn't have the strength to decide now. _They_ had done it to degrade him. 

Again he felt fury in his belly, his eyes narrowing slightly and his body going rigid. No-one was allowed to hurt what was _his_ , and even if he hadn't put a collar on any of the Avenger's before yesterday that didn't mean that he wasn't perfectly comfortable ignoring that. 

Meanwhile Anthony had put the coat on, his eyes still holding wonder about the fact that he wore real clothes, even if it was just a simple cover against the cold. "Thank you.", he whispered, and his voice held some thickness as if he was about to cry again. 

He would rip them to pieces. Definitive.

"I can't have my pet catching a cold. Lee is going to kill me if I don't take better care of you.", he said, still awkward when it came down to emotions.

His protest silenced whatever else Anthony wanted to say, but didn't stop the small, silly smile the mortal wore while pulling the coat tighter around him, his nose being all but buried in the pelt. Obviously the cold words did not much to destroy the good mood the man was in.

Ripping his own gaze away from the sight - trying do redirect his attention least he went out to exact his avenge now - he motioned for the mortal to follow him. He really didn't want him to be ill, so it would be better to take him around the house to the greenhouse. It wouldn't be the same as staying outside, but the mortal could do that when he was better. Loki at least wasn't taking any chances with his health.

Anthony followed him without complaint, acting like the good little pet he wasn't. But for the time being it was probably better that he was so compliant - it was better when he began to fight (and Loki had no illusions about that - _Tony Stark_ 's return would be accompanied by a _lot_ of fighting) then it was better if that happened when Anthony was in a better shape. But at the moment he was doing what he was told and Loki chose to reward him for it. He just had to decide in which way ...

The man going beside him was quiet, but for once he didn't think that he was cowed. No, it seemed that the garden had rendered him speechless, and the awe in his face made Loki see it all himself as if for the first time again.

Trees, as high as if they had been standing there for hundreds of years and not barely ten. Lianas entwining themselves around them. Between them, squirrels hunting each other and birds singing and shrilling like the humans in the city below. Bushes blossoming in a way that shouldn't be possible - Loki actually had a guest here once who understood enough about nature to tell him that some plants weren't even supposed to bloom at that time of the year. And that didn't even took in account all the thousands of flowers in all their millions of colors showing off at the ground, almost hiding the small paths and benches. If one was able to take something in beside the overwhelming perfume and the birds’ songs he could hear the cheerful gargle of a small quell, springing up somewhere hidden in the yard. There was also the almost silent song of the trees, and the murmur of the naiad.

And that was only what Loki's normal senses told him; his magical sense flared up with the life force of every single being in this garden, singing to him in colors no human ever would have names for, and the fast taste of the wind in his mouth, the slow drum of the stones wrinkling his nose. A nymph-garden was so alive it could easily overwhelm a magical being like Loki, and even someone like Tony - deaf and blind compared to a sorcerer - couldn't help but being taken. 

They reached the greenhouse soon after, Loki opening the door with a small touch against the glass. "Go in.", he invited the mortal, following closely behind him - only to make sure the mortal wouldn't bolt, obviously. It had nothing to do with his fear to let to much cold air in.

Is was considerably warmer inside, the flowers needing a constant temperature of at least thirty degrees. Without prompt Tony let the coat drop from his shoulders, probably as much due to fear of punishment as it was for the fact that the coat would be to warm in here. Thinking this Loki could only hope that Anthony never remembered that he had only worn his normal clothes while being out there in the freezing cold. 

Not that he thought this likely. Anthony still stood in the room, absolutely thunderstruck. Even compared to the garden outside - _especially_ compared to the outside, where even the spirits couldn't make everything green and blooming in this kind of temperature - the greenhouse was magnificent. Palms, the odd cactuses, banana trees - there were plants of every continent, all growing together peacefully in this one room. Light filtered in, greenish from the leafs, but still enough that orchids, rafflesia and other flowers grew in the lower regions.

"It's Mary's territory.", he said, his voice unthinkingly lower pitched. "Look were you set your feet - there is no-one more pitiable then the man who treats on her baby’s."

Anthony's answering chuckle was nervous and reminded him that the man wasn't used to this kind of banter anymore. The thought brought sadness again- he had enjoyed the way the mortal had engaged him during this half-assed invasion he had been forced to lead. Threatening someone by offering him a drink, by the norns! - just for that he would have to love the man. 

Looking again at the man it occurred to him that his limbs were trembling lightly, probably unconsciously, and his face was, while flushed from the warmth in here, still slightly frozen. He was exhausted, still, even with the quiet day he had had to face and the slumber in the afternoon. Malnutrition, inactivity and depression would do that to each man, and Loki decided he would cut the day short. They could always come back later, when Anthony was better rested and better fed, and then he would show him the beauty of this garden. The man would love it - the way the birds sang in spring, and the crickets playing their song at warm summer evenings. Loki could picture it - himself sitting outside reading some magical essay or another, Sigyn laying down in the grass while Jean and Mary bickered like an old couple over some recipes or letters send by his mostly uncaring parents, asking for yet another favor, while Anthony sat down on his knees by Loki's chair, his head pressed in his lap and his eyes closed, reveling in the closeness to each other and the hand petting his hair.

Startled Loki woke from his dream. How could he ....? Anthony wasn't with him for more than 24 hours, and already he was picturing the rest of his life with him. That was impossible, and absolutely unparalleled - even Sigyn had needed years to go under his skin this much, and the wall around his heart hadn't been quiet as thick then as it was now, more so for an once-and-maybe-still-enemy. So how had Anthony managed what so few ever had succeeded in?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who's pointing out mistakes. I'm going to change them as fast as possible.


	11. Wonder

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NSorry, this chapter is a bit short. That's due to the fact that this and the next chapter were meant to be one, right until it got longer than two normal chapters and I decided to cut it in half. So this is the smaller part, and the next is going to be longer.  
> On another note: I read the last chapter again and maybe I should say something about the daydream Loki is having. Nothing about that is romantic, its only Loki's own brand of possessive behavior. There is no love involved at the moment.
> 
> Am gone now, watching Thor2.

It was a wonder. Simply, plain, a wonder. He hadn't thought it possible to ever again feel the sun on his skin, had had days he lived through by picturing himself outside, lying on a marrow, nothing shielding his naked body from the warm kiss of the star. It was one of the few dreams he still had that involved him being naked - usually he dreamed about the clothes he would wear if he ever got out of this. A jeans he remembered buying some weeks before all this had started to impress Pepper. A shirt Steve had gifted him with. The gloves Bruce gave him to his last birthday which were fine, really, if not for the fact that Tony Stark did not wear real warm knitted gloves.

 _Tony Stark_ wasn't here anymore, and this shadow of him that remained would have given anything to be able to ever see and wear these ugly things again.

He never caught Louis leaving, but he felt his return - felt the heavy, warm, heavenly solid coat around his shoulders. Shock went through his system - he had learned, and learned _fast_ , that no slave was to ever wear clothes. Clothes were for humans, and to a lesser extend for pets, but not for something whose only use was be a trophy, or a tool. 

But then he wasn't a slave, was he? He was a pet, or at least that was what Louis told him, and a pet might be wearing clothes if it's owner is deeming it worthy of being so coddled. 

Realizing this he looked up to Louis, only to see his face bear an approaching anger. The view made him falter until the thought struck him that Louis probably thought he didn't appreciate his friendliness enough, him standing rigid and the coat still hanging around his shoulders, threatening to fall down. Still unable to fully believe it he took hold of the pelt, pulled it tight around him and barely breathed: "Thank you." Even Louis' curt answer couldn't kill the warmth spreading from his belly, chasing away more than just the coldness of the winter in his body.

He buried his nose in the pelt, smelling the scent of the man in it and the thought - _that he was wearing Louis' own clothing_ \- was so overwhelming he couldn't do anything but silently follow him when he strode forward, a hand indicating that he was to do so.

Gradually he became aware of the scenery around him, of the whispering trees and blooming bushes. He was by no means a man knowledged in the green arts, but even he was aware that that late in the year there shouldn't have been so many flowers and plants blossoming. Winter was creeping in, and there shouldn't have been even half as much color in the garden. Yet there was, and he asked himself who was to care for the plants - neither Mary nor Jean seemed that kind of person, and Sigyn ... _no_. Simply _no_.

They only walked around the house, and if he was honest to himself that was all Tony could manage. Even with Louis' mantle the cold began eating at his fingers and toes, and his nose felt slightly frozen and probably looked as if he had had many a drink to much. So he only felt a small pang of sorrow for being brought into the greenhouse, more so for the fact that not only the warmth but also the view was overwhelming.

Unthinkingly he took a step forward to take a better look at a flower in the color of a white-blazing flame when Louis' comment made him stop in his tracks. It wasn't malevolent, but even so the answering chuckle it startled out of him was nervous - the beauty of the garden and greenhouse as well as the care Louis had been treating him with had made him lower his guard until he almost forgot that he was property to be owned by the highest bidder.

Awareness came again, told him that he had taken the coat off sometime ago - probably upon entering the almost _too_ warm hothouse - and also that he was still shivering - not from coldness, but from sheer exhaustion. 

He couldn't believe it. There had been a time when he had countered an alien attack and at the end of the day he had been hungry enough to tear through almost as much shawarma as Thor usually ate, but still man enough to make love to Pepper in the night. Now ... now the short walk around a garden, lasting barely half an hour, had him quivering like a girl at prom night. He had lost so much - Pepper, his freedom, his money - so what should it matter to realize that he had also lost his ability to defend himself? But it did matter, as the hotness around his eyes suggested, the tears threatening to come. And that was something else - he was no victim sitting in his room waiting to be rescued by the charming prince - or princess, he wouldn't be too picky about this, least of all after meeting Natasha - but yet he was, unable to do anything to rescue himself. He wanted to bolt - he knew he should - yet he also knew that even Louis with his slender frame could hold him down easily, felt still the unmoving weight pinning him in the mattress, knowing that he wouldn't be able to do anything should he decide to rape him, or beat him, or kill him.

There was nothing he could do to stop Louis from doing whatever he wished to do, and that all his new owner did was making sure he was okay, and cared for ... it was confusing, to say the least.

 _Pet_ , it echoed in his thoughts, and he remembered.


	12. A quiet evening

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> and the rest of Tony's evening

Louis took him back into his - their? Was it his bedroom as well when he wasn't sleeping in the bed but in the room? - bedroom and made him wait for a minute while he removed his shirt and took the shoes off, snapped the small watch from around his wrist and put it carefully down on a sideboard. Then he nodded to the bathroom door.

Swallowing Tony followed him in. He had washed himself in the morning, but the way Louis had been preparing himself now made it clear that there was something else following.

Once inside the room a curt nod had him standing in the shower (a really big shower. Almost as big as the one in his Malibu-house), flushed and feeling more naked and awkward under Louis' look then he had since that moment in the study when he had lain over his table and presented his bottom to the man he had thought would abuse him. 

There was none of that fear in him now, though he couldn't for his live say why that was. He didn't feel threatened, or degraded. He just felt very aware of himself, of his short-comings - his lack of muscles, his ill-looking skin, his hunched posture. It didn't matter that nothing of this was his fault, it was just his bad luck that he couldn't look more attractive when there was someone in the room he really wanted to impress - _needed_ to impress.

 _Needed to impress_. The thought caught him off-guard, all the more confusing because he only ever felt that way for people he wanted to bed, and he didn't want to bed Louis. Hell, he didn't even feel aroused by his shape, or had ever thought about him as attractive.

When had being used for sex began equaling being less in pain? When had it began to mean the person abusing him would care for him in a slightly better way?

Shivers ran over his body and he felt like coming apart again. He wasn't _Tony Stark_ anymore, and as much as he had known it before the thought - the want to make his owner proud, at least _this_ owner who was the first to ever really care for him - made it really, awfully real to him. He was a slave, and even if he would be rescued today he would never again _not_ be a slave anymore.

Whatever Louis saw of this thoughts in his face made him say, soft and warm: "Don't fear, Anthony. You'll only get a shower now." A small, rueful chuckle. "It's a bit late, I admit, but you were asleep yesterday and I didn't want to take too long this morning, when I knew that you had to be hungry. So we will clean you now, and by the time you are ready to go under people again Jean should be waiting with dinner." His hand stretched out, stroked lightly over the stubble at Tony's jaw. The last shave had been during the shower in the Mistress’ house, three days ago - no, four days now - and the hair was regrowing. He found himself wondering if Louis would shave him, too, or let his facial hair grow like that on his head. Or if he would allow him his mustache, the one he had always worn and that had been one of the first things they had taken from him, long before his sanity - what he still had of it after years of drinking and drugs and Afghanistan, at least - and his self-respect.

"Don't be afraid, Anthony.", Louis repeated, and while it would have made Tony mad, once, to hear something again and again like this, it only served to calm him now. He really felt himself relaxing under the other's hand, under the peace he conveyed, and didn't even startle when Louis took the rest of his clothes off and joined him under the shower. Still slow his hands began tracing Tony's body; his throat, his collarbone, his shoulders. His upper arms, his hands, slowly patting their back before taking the shower head and testing the water, Tony staying patiently beside him, waiting for what was to follow. He's still not sure if he could really believe it - in the Mistress' house showers had always been cold, and there had never been anything else but hard soap used. But this ... this didn't feel like that, like he'd be only showering to satisfy someone's need for sanitary. This felt like caring, and Tony didn't bother if it was the care one would show for a pet, this felt so good, so incredible, and he felt his broken, shattered heart suck all this love up like a desert did the first rain drops for years.

Slowly Louis raised the shower head over Tony, warm water pouring down on his head, his shoulder, running over his body. He held it over the rest of his body until Tony was soaked through from crown to toe, his eyes blinking against the onslaught and his lips pressed together to stop himself from inhaling the fluid.

A dark memory tried to come up, of another place, of persons holding his head under water to make sure he would cooperate, but he chased it away. There was nothing Louis could want of him, nothing he could give him, and this water was warm and clear, tasting sweet on his tongue, and not the ice-rimmed oily liquid his tormentors had submerge him in.

Then Louis put the shower-head away, took a bottle of an almost translucent shower gel and began to rub it in Tony's skin in slow, soothing circles. Tony couldn't help but relax under the caress, felt his muscle go to mush and his eyes becoming heavy, his breath evening out when he took the smell in - something like lavender, a bit cinnamon - matching the violet color of the gel.

It felt so good, even when the hand strayed lower, finished his arms, his chest, went over his belly. His breath hitched again, but the touch stayed clinical, not sexual, even when it slid over his cock, between his legs. He whimpered a bit, unthinkingly, and heard a low hum, clearly intended to calm him. And it worked, made better by the fact that Louis did not take advantage of the close proximity he was in, or of the position of his hand. He did not mean it that way. He just ... it was like giving your _dog_ a shower, and he was thorough, and it was intimate in a way, but it wasn't about sex and it made him feel a way he couldn't even begin to describe.

A slight tremble took his body over, and he waited with baited breath until Louis had finished soaping his front, went around him and then began lathering up his back. He leaned slightly in the hand touching him, not even feeling as his breath evened out again, his eyes closed all the way.

When Louis took his hands away and began pouring water over his skin it was a shock that tore his eyes open and a low cry from his throat.

Immediately Louis was there, his hand at his cheek, his voice purring reassuringly "Peace, Anthony. All is well."

He relaxed again, let Louis clean him up and then pull him out of the shower where he dried him with a big, fluffy towel - finer, oh so much finer than the rags that they used in the Mistress’ house, or that got used on him anywhere else, and he wanted to sink in the feeling and never let it go. Much to fast he was dry and Louis put the towel on the rack again, then led him back in the main room, collected his clothes on the way and threw them on a chair. He didn't seem to feel uncomfortable about being naked, but then he had to know that he could always put new clothes on. 

"Sit down.", he said and nodded to the rug Tony had been sleeping on.

Blinking he made his way over to the place, sank down. Hadn't Louis said something about dinner ...? And why was it that he _trusted_ Louis? All his other owners he would have suspected of lying, but Louis really made an effort to gain his trust, and in the end he had always been too naive. Terry, Obadiah, his father in a way ... everyone had used him for his own wishes, and he had never been able to see it coming. So why should this go any other way?

_Because you've never been a slave before. Because the person in question has never owned you._

But they did, didn't they? Even if it was in another way. Terry had been his senior at the university, the on he looked up to, and that was a kind of ownership. His father - parents do own you, own your heart, even if you try to throw them out. And Obadiah had been something of a replacement-dad, having a power over Tony not even Howard had had, for Tony had thought that Stane cared for him.

In the end there was only one decision to make - should Tony rely, once again, on his instinct and trust Louis? Or should he follow what his memories and caution warned him to do and close up, never let the guy even more in than he already was, try to dig him out wherever he had already settled in?

He remembered the day he first went to public school, the big kids he couldn't believe to ever have anything in common with, and the black boy who smirked at him in a pretty violent way. The day a rather plain red-head had come into his office do audition for a job as his personal assistant. The man with the heart of a boy and a green rage-monster hidden beneath his skin he met at the helicarrier. The guy he remembered from old photographs his dad had had hidden in his bedside drawer, smiling a bit old fashioned and arrogant.

Human nature wasn't always at clash with what he thought he knew of it. And not all people who were good to _him_ were people everyone else called good.

Inaudibly sighing he admitted defeat; the guy was already lodged to deep in his being - _after barely a day!_ \- to get him out without serious reason to do so. And at the moment being a slave owner wasn't serious enough in Tony's mind, which should be more than a bit fear-inducing, but then he had never given much to normal conventions.

The sound of an opened drawer drew his eyes again to the man that so made his thoughts chase each other. He was currently taking some items out of the closet - a little bag, a small ribbon, a brush ... oh. Realization woke him up; Louis had commented on the stage his hair was in.

Putting the items on his bed he wandered over to the closet, took some lose trousers out as well as a shirt that barely even hid his chest. They made Tony's eyebrows rise; the bottoms were blue, the shirt orange, and while he wouldn't say that they looked bad at him, they made him certainly look less official, more comfortable.

Smiling he once again turned to Tony. "Come.", he invited, taking the bag and the brush in his hand. "Or we'll be the last for dinner, and Jean doesn't appreciate this."

Tony nodded unconsciously - he had seen the way Jean reacted to them eating, and it wasn’t hard to imagine what his opinion about someone _not_ eating had to be.

Rising to his feet he discovered that he had developed hunger again over the afternoon, even though it had been spend quiet and with a lot of sleep. His body really was in a bad form, when he was demanding food even though it had been given already more than he had had in months.

And it made it's displeasure known quiet loud. Blushing Tony's eyes sank to the floor, but even so he could hear the light smile in Louis' voice when he answered. "It seems Jean won't be the only one who wouldn't like it."

No malice, _still not_ , and unbelieving Tony followed him out of the door. But when he almost instinctively now tried to go down the stairs Louis shook his head. 

"Not there, Anthony. If it's possible we eat upstairs in the evening, catching up on recent news and watching movies." Another small smile when Tony found himself blinking. "It's not only you that leans towards bad habits. And even we foreigners tend to have lazy evenings."

For the first time Tony noticed that his owner had an accent - it wasn't bad, could have been an odd roll of the tongue, but yes, it was there. _A foreigner._

It made Tony stumble a bit over his own thoughts - he had never realized that he could be bought by a stranger and, as a consequence, one day leave the USA, meaning that any rescue attempt would be much much more difficult.

A low click of Louis’ tongue called him back into the present, where Louis was already standing in the door of the living room. Immediately Tony hurried after him, not wanting to be punished for laziness.

He had only just reached the side of his owner when another person climbed the stairs with long, easy strides, and then Sigyn stood beside them.

"I see.", she said, looking at them both for a moment before settling her terrifying gaze on a suddenly pretty nervous Tony. "Maybe he really is good for something after all, even if it is just by getting you out of your hole at mealtimes."

"Sigyn.", Louis said stern. The gaze settled on him, and then their eyes met. There was a load of information going between them, much more than he would have expected by someone not involved in a romantic relationship, but then Pepper and he always had a way to communicate without words, too, even before they came together, and also after they broke up. Time didn't really change that, only a change of the people who shared this look, and at least Sigyn seemed to be rather steady to him.

In the end the woman rolled her eyes and nodded, almost bowed, giving in to whatever he had demanded.

"Come.", Louis said again, and then they entered the living room. There was no change to how it had looked in the afternoon, aside from there being two people sitting on the armchair and on one of the couches. 

Oh, and the pizzas standing on the table.

Tony couldn't believe it. That was pizza, _honest to god real pizza_ \- homemade when he had understood Louis right - sitting on plates right in his range. And not just any pizza - there was enough topping on the pizza to deserve that name, and the cheese covered most of it. Unconsciously licking his lips he automatically went down on his knees beside Louis when he sank in the couch Jean had vacated upon their entering, while Sigyn chose the other couch. "Red wine?", Jean asked, looking at Louis, and the man nodded.

There was a bar in the room that Tony hadn't noticed at their visit, and from this Jean took two glasses, filled one with a fruity smelling red wine that had been airing on a side table, and the other with a sparkling drink - champagne, probably, considering the color of the bottle.

Then he joined Louis on the couch again, pushing another glass - filled with a clear, uncolored drink Tony would bet was water - to Louis.

While he then took a sip from his own glass and Louis looked over the choice of pizzas Mary turned the News on.

It wasn't really something new, mostly decisions the senators hesitated to make and bad press due to a espionage affair in other countrys, but for Tony this was absolutely new. He hadn't seen or heard anything of the world outside his respective cage since his imprisonment, and this was a bit, a small tiny bit like sitting on the floor of his tower, the other Avenger's lounging around him, and groaning about the news together.

Only he was sitting on the floor of his owner's house, the Avenger's probably didn't even know that he was still alive, and his stomach was growling.

Blushing he swallowed, then looked warily up to Louis.

Who looked down on him with a small smile, then took a slice of pizza, took a bite himself and then proceeded to hold the piece in front of Tony's mouth.

For a full thirty seconds Tony made no move. There had been others that had made him eat out or their hands, and there had always been the knowledge that it had happened to degrade him. But ... why did Louis do this? Had he been so wrong, when he had - only minutes ago - decided to trust the guy?

A hand found it's way in his hair, stroking through his freshly showered strands. "Peace, Anthony.", the silky voice purred again. "You’re sitting on a pretty expensive rug. We don't want you to get your hands dirty and the rug, too, do we?"

It certainly was a reason to do this. It also was by no way the only one.

Nevertheless Tony leaned forward, opened his mouth. He found himself waiting for Louis to take the slice away, to mock him, but it stayed in place and he took a bite out of the most perfect pizza he had eaten in his whole life, even including his favorite spot in Manhatten and the pizzeria he had found in venezia last ... no, second to last summer with Pepper.

Moaning his pleasure he took his time to chew and taste the bite, disappointed when he had to swallow it down. He didn't eve let the chuckle from above disturb him or the words Jean said about him appreciating the way Tony enjoyed his meals.

When he had swallowed down Louis gave him the slice again for the next bite, and the next after that. Whatever the man had told him about his reasons for not giving Tony the pizza in hand, it was irrelevant for Tony could feel the way this was affecting him. There was a certain kind of power included in feeding another, and also Tony was down on his knees for him, leaning every so often his head back against the leg in his right. There was power in this, power Louis gained through it, power Tony gave him, but the soothing, petting hand in his hair, which should have made it so much worse, so much more degrading, in effect made it bearable. It was calming, in way - he wasn't expected to think, or to do something, anything else but sit here and accept what Louis was offering him. 

Some time later they finished the meal - Tony had no idea how much he had eaten, but he felt comfortable full, and the blood rushing in his stomach together with the warmth of the room and the peacefulness of the hand petting his hair made him drowsy, even more so since the news had ended and Mary had switched channels to watch a documentary about some isles in the atlantic ocean. At least he wasn't the only one bored - while both Louis and Jean seemed to like the film, Sigyn was sitting in her chair and read a book about ... it was Chinese, but Tony thought it actually might be the _Art of War_ , but he could be mistaken considering that it was the only Chinese book he knew.

He was almost asleep, his cheek resting on Louis warm tight, when he felt distantly that the hand was removed. He groaned unconsciously, wanted the soft rubbing to continue, but what he got made him open his eyes again in sleepy astonishment. There was a brush, running slowly and carefully over his head, parting the strands and knots without hurt. It was almost better than the hand - the pressure just the right bit harder, the scratch over his skin relieving itches he hadn't even known about, and there was the simple fact that _he had been denied to groom himself for most of this five months_. It was a bit confusing, yes - on one hand the brushing made him feel a bit more like a human again, on the other hand he was cared for like a pet.

But it didn't matter, he thought. Aside from the fact that he had never felt this much loved there was also the simple fact that he couldn't change anything about it.

He fell asleep under the light caress of a brush running smoothly through his combed hair and to the confusing thought that maybe, maybe, he didn't want to change anything.


	13. Decisions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki can't be at home all the time ...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello dear readers.  
> There is a serious question that I have to ask you. As I said, I was watching Thor 2 some days ago, and it's a real cool movie. I would actually like to include some/most facts of this movie as I always strive to make a story as much movie-conform as possible. Since this story didn't start out with a spoiler-warning and I do not know how many people are already able to watch it I would like to get your opinion if I do this or just continue where Avengers left off.  
> There will be at least 2 chapters still without any spoilers which are already written, but I need to know what I make of chapter 16.
> 
> LG, Nightalp

Loki was lying awake for a long time that night, looking at the small bundle he had lain down on the rug some long bygone admirer had gifted him with, when he was still a prince in Asgard. The man had thought him a boy he could exploit, not knowing that he was playing right in the hands of Loki who had never needed anything else from him than a certain necklace the man had provided him with after five months of wooing. Needless to say, Loki had seen it arranged that the man had been caught in a compromising situation only some weeks after. No-one should try to play games with _this_ prince of Asgard, even more so if you happened to be the one to give grave insult to the prince's best friend.

The man now lying on the rug was nothing like that man - not anymore, maybe never had been. For all that Loki knew, Anthony had had the reputation to be a playboy, seldom serious about relationships, but then everyone had known that bedding this man did not mean anything beyond that. At least not to Tony Stark.

It was different now. After all that had been done to him Loki suspected that sex always would carry a bit terror, a bit of the acid memory of being raped within, even if he only ever slept with the woman he loved.

Or did not love. He recalled that there had been an official statement to tell the world that Tony Stark and Virginia Potts were going different ways from now on, only days before the inventor had disappeared - something the press took great interest in. 

He hadn't thought much about it then, aside from a bit wondering if that was done to protect the woman from being kidnapped again. After all, even a child could see the love and admiration in Stark's eyes whenever he looked at her, and the whole business world knew that Stark Industries needed Virginia Potts around as much as the Iron Man himself. 

Now, this love might be enough to heal Anthony, but there was too much at stake to risk it on the chance that Ms. Potts might not be able to take it, take him back. She was strong - any woman to stay by the side of Tony Stark had to be strong - but was she able to see the wounds this man had taken? Was she able to heal that?

Loki couldn't help but find his mind scare off at the image of giving Anthony back into his world in anything else but his best health, body and mind both, and it was plain to see that he was a far cry from that. The way he had lain, absolutely compliant, against his tights, had almost nuzzled his hand when he had been stroked and brushed, had _eaten out of his hand_ \- he wasn't ok, no, he really wasn't.

But there was still the question - why did he, Loki, care? The thought of abandoning Anthony was enough to let fury grow in his stomach, and he felt his entire self refusing the pure idea. Something that had happened only very rarely before, and never because of a being he had known only for two days.

Or ... he didn't know Anthony for two days. He knew him since the invasion, in a way even before it as he had been a bit on earth and even met the man once on a fund-raising event. And there was something nagging in his mind, something that told him that there was more to his caring than just that, and he couldn't really avoid the thought that he might have read something about this at one previous time but just couldn't remember it now.

So, why did he feel that way? Why was Anthony so important, and becoming more important the longer he stayed with him?

There was no answer his already to full unconsciousness could give him, and he fell asleep to the nagging thought that he really needed to know the answer to this question.

 

?Â¿

 

The next morning he woke again to an already wakeful Anthony, but this time he was thankfully not trying to jump him (and wasn't it just another sign that Anthony hadn't lost all of his spark? For a broken slave surely would never try to subdue his master, and it was almost a pity that he had had to disable this escape plan). 

Instead he was standing by the window, looking outside. When he heard that Loki was awake - and not even he, with his superior skills, could climb out of these mortal's beds without making a sound - he tensed up and turned around, not quiet daring to look into Loki's eyes.

Of course. He had left the rug Loki had lain him down on last night and walked over to the window without being given permission beforehand.

Loki smiled reassuringly. He didn't want Anthony to think that he had to expect punishment for such a bit freedom. 

"You are allowed everywhere in this room, and in the bathroom, without asking.", he said softly. "Just don't leave the room, and do not open the window." And don't jump me anymore, he thought, but Anthony probably wouldn't think it as funny as Loki did. He had no way to know that Loki didn't fear him, had no reason to, for the thousands of years he had lived had seen to it that he was a pretty good fighter, almost impossible to be approached undetected.

While Anthony relaxed again he stood up, chose the cloths he would be wearing today and then, after a moment's thought, began speaking: "Unfortunately I'll not be in for the whole day. To be correct, I'll leave directly after breakfast and my return may be delayed until late in the evening. Since we didn't discuss what you may be allowed to do without me you'll spend the day with Sigyn." The woman would be thrilled. She still didn't trust Anthony, and to spend the day as his babysitter, not to mention that that meant she would have to let her sovereign out without a bodyguard - as if that was a problem; he could take down everything short of a small army himself - wouldn't improve her mood, but then that wasn't meant to do so. Even though Anthony had already tensed up again - he was no idiot and he had eyes, and it didn't take a genius to figure out how Sigyn felt about him - this was to make him feel more at home, more like himself again. For Loki knew that, while he might share the genius' love for problems and hiding in his labor, he would never share his love for what he used his genius for. It wasn't that Asgard didn't have machines, but like Thor - and wasn't it really _really_ bad that he had something like that in common with the oaf in the end? - he found himself struggling with the crudeness of it all (though ... he had to admit that Stark was good in what he did. Were he to live another five hundred or so years without faltering in his pursue of perfection he might even become good enough to rival the Aesir technicians.), preferred much rather the elegance of magic. Sigyn however took to Midgardian technology like a fish to water, made her driver's license within two months after their arrival and collected cars (and some motorbikes and a yacht and a plane and a lot more WI-games than anyone could ever play) with the money Loki would have paid her if not for the simple fact that an asgardian guard - at least the bodyguards of the royal family - were oath bound to never take money for her or his services.

And this - her love for cars and other mashines - was something she had in common with Anthony, and he really didn't feel bad about exploiting that. Not if it meant that his family grew even more together ...

Breakfast was similar to the day before, with Anthony sitting on the floor beside him - kneeling obviously was something he only did when he was to tired to think, or, probably, to fearful - and eating the dish Jean gave him. Again he was at his best behavior, and Loki couldn't help but shudder at the thought what must have been done to him that he tried to be the least nuisance, the best behaved he could be to just not ever get thrown out. It was so painfully obvious, the way he tried, and he couldn't help but feel his chest grow cold with fear at the thought that someone else might have found this out, might have used it against him ... asking much, and ever more, from him, in exchange for a pat on this curly head, or a few minutes of sunshine, or a kind word. Anthony had been treated so bad that it wouldn't have taken much to make him into the perfect slave. 

Biting his tongue he made an effort to chase these thoughts away. It hadn't happened this way, and he would thank the norns every day that they had woven his tread together with Anthony if that was what it took to keep the mortal now sitting slightly restless at his feet.

He hadn't yet talked to Sigyn about her new responsibility ... thinking of which, he hadn't even told her that he would be out today. And he really ought to do that, since she never took kindly to being told that he would take one of her babys out without giving her a chance to properly polish them (They were always polished. He would never ever understand the fuzz. But then that were woman to you).

And he shouldn't postpone it even more than he already did.

He looked at the woman, caught her eyes and waited until she had raised her eyebrows in silent question. <Did I tell you about Lenhard's today?>, he asked as innocently as possible, using the Asgardian tongue to not further irritate Anthony or put pressure on Sigyn. Anymore than he wanted, at least.

Her eyes immediately became small slits. <What of the Lenhard's?>, she asked, much to intelligent to fall for his half assed try - he didn't like lying to her, and in the end that meant she could always see through him.

Licking his lips he decided to feed it to her bit by bit. <I ... may have forgotten that the meeting I was to attend last week and couldn't go to because of the disaster my oaf of a brother made of the fight against Dr. Doom ended in the office-building we were to meet in being closed was postponed till today?>

The look she was giving him was murderous. <And the pet?>

_So much for letting the bomb go up slowly_.  <You see ... Mary isn't the strongest anymore, and while I don't think that he would hurt her I think he would do anything necessary to escape. And Jean ... he's often so caught up in his tasks that he would probably forget about Anthony altogether within minutes. And as you know yourself, I can't take him with>

<Oh, no!>, she exclaimed. <You only got him yesterday, you can't saddle me with him so fast. Forget it! I'm no babysitter!>

The good thing about being with someone so long that you can almost read each other's thoughts? You know which buttons to push to get what you want from them.

<Sigyn.>, he said. <He is my brother's shield brother. He is my ... responsibility. He is almost royalty in this country, and on this world. Shouldn't a man like this - a man that has been hurt, furthermore, and is, for all purposes, helpless to defend himself - be much more in need of your care than me, one of the best fighter the Aesir people ever have seen? Wouldn't it be your duty to protect him much more than to protect me, would we be on Asgard now?>

<Would we be on Asgard right now, I wouldn't be the only one with the unthankful task to keep _you_ safe, my king. >, Sigyn cursed, but he could see that she was cracking and pushed his advantage.

<Yes, and because of that ... the Aesir are a people of fighters, as well as the Jötun. The humans? I can tolerate them, and some of them are exceptional, but aside from this few outstanding persons there is no-one here to present a challenge to me. It's much safer than Asgard, Sigyn.>

She still didn't look fully convinced, but he knew that he had her. To say that she still didn't believe him safe would be either an insult to a warrior-king, or a confession that Midgardians weren't as puny as she always told him. And she wasn't prepared to do that, neither nor.

<Fine.>, she groaned in the end. <Just don't tell me that I have to entertain him. I'm not good at playing clown.>

<Neither is he good at laughing at them, I would think.>, Loki said. <And I don't expect you to do anything you wouldn't to anyway. Take him in the garage, show him the cars. He can probably tell you some things about them even you don't know. Just make sure that he knows that he's allowed to use the toilet, and that he gets his lunch. Anything else I will take care of.>

She still looked unconvinced, but in the end gave in to his request and nodded. "I'll make sure that the Volvo is ready for you.", she said eventually, and he knew that he still wasn’t forgiven, and this was the least of her revenge.

He hated the car. It was pink.


	14. A day with Sigyn I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, there won't be any spoilers in the next chapters. Just so you know.

Standing up from his rug - the rug he had ended on yesterday without memory how, which reminded him uncomfortably at all the times he had to be carried to bed after at least one drink to much - was a decision he had pondered carefully, but it still was a relieve to hear Louis confirm that he was indeed allowed to do so. 

Still ... he became more confident in the decisions he made, surer about what would be punished and what wouldn't. And if that wasn't a frightening thought ... he was with the guy for barely two days, and he could already anticipate some of the things he would do.

Or not. Hearing him announce that Louis would leave the house today and then leave him behind in Sgyn's care ... maybe he _had_ done something wrong, in the end, and that was Louis' creative way to punish him. He wouldn't put it beyond him, at least.

Sigyn wasn't thrilled with the prospect either, if he understood her reaction right. Of course, they spoke in a different language - sounded a bit like the strange vocals of Thor's, if he could say so - but he wasn't called a genius for show. And to make it even more easy, they even used his name somewhere in the end of the conversation, and that cemented that.

At least, whatever Sigyn said about the car - what was so problematic about a volvo? - made Louis look slightly put-off, and he found himself silently complimenting Sigyn for doing so.

After the meal Louis again pulled the tablets out - it was a week-package of antibiotics, and was he really to take them all? - and made him swallow another of the white pills, before he put a hand on Tony's head, carefully sliding his fingers through the short curls.

"Looks like you won't need a brush immediately.", he said, and Tony felt himself blush, not sure if it was because he was spoken to like a small boy, or the embarrassment a girl might feel about the attentions of a boy at their first date.

Then the hand traveled lower and settled on his shoulder, turned him even more to Louis so that he would have to look either in his eyes or at his chest. Tony chose the eyes - the situation seemed to demand that - and found himself at the receiving end of a rather sincere look. "I will be back in the evening." Louis said, but that wasn't what he told Tony, or what Tony heard. 

_You won't be sold. You're safe here. Don't piss Sigyn off._

He blinked, almost overwhelmed by the sub text.

Only waiting to make sure he had understood what he had tried to say Louis let him go and left soon after through the door, through which Sigyn only moments ago had reentered the kitchen.

Not sure what he was to expect Tony looked to Sigyn who herself had her eyes settled on him. Mistrusting. Angered. Worried.

Tony felt a shiver run down his spine. What was he to do when she hit him ... Louis had said he wouldn't be beaten, but did she know that ...?

"Lou said you know something about cars?"

There weren’t much things in the world he knew more about. He blinked again. Why in the world would she want to ask him that ...? "Yes.", he answered, hesitatingly. 

She just nodded and gave him a short wink to follow her before she left the room as well. Irritated Tony followed. 

Obviously not fast enough for she threw him an inpatient stare and actually took one of the coats down and held it out to him when they reached the entrance hall.

"I'm not sure ...", Tony began with dilated eyes - he really didn't want to find out what Louis would do when he misbehaved, and wearing clothes without permission seemed to be a sure way to find it out.

Sigyn just rolled her eyes and cut him short. "He wants me to look after you while he's away, I'm going into the garage, it's cold there, you're wearing something or you're catching a cold, and Lou's going to hack my head off if I allow this. So, stop worrying and put it on. If he's asking it's my fault, but believe me, he's not going to say something."

Swallowing Tony nodded again, then took the coat from her. It wasn't the one Louis had given him last time - this one was heavier, warmer, with shorter arms; it also didn't smell of his owner but of Sigyn. It still was special, this feeling of covering, but he didn't get the thrill he had that first time. Maybe he was becoming accustomed to being clothed again.

 _Or maybe_ , a small dark voice in the back of his mind said, _maybe it's because it's not Louis giving you his coat._

He refused to go down that road; this wasn't about Louis. Instead he followed a satisfied nodding Sigyn out of the house, this time through a side door leading out of the kitchen. Was the sun yesterday on her way to go down she stood high and bright in the sky today, and Tony used the chance to get a bit more light, even if that meant opening the coat a bit more than the cold really allowed, or not getting another look at the beautiful garden for fear of ... no, not really losing Sigyn. More of getting dragged after by her.

So it took him a bit by surprise when she stopped, and he almost ran into her. Blinking he looked up to see a door in a small building - looked a bit like the toilet houses on the camping trip he had been on one time as a teenager - right next to a garage door. Surprised he raised his eyebrows - from what Louis had told him, and from what he knew himself about rich guys (him being one himself), he would have tipped on a lot more cars than this building was ever going to hold.

Sigyn didn't seem to notice his confusion and just put her hand on a keypad, tipping a number in - - without even trying to hide it from him. _O-kay_ , so it would have been pretty useless anyway - he still knew how to hack an electronic door, though he would need some tools for that, admittedly - but he wouldn't have thought her being so careless.

"Don't ever try to open the door.", she said in this moment, and, okay, that was a bit unsettling. Why did everyone in this house seem to be able to read his thoughts? "There is another security system set up, and it will not take kindly to you breaking in."

Or, as Tony understood it: Yes, I did show you the numbers. And I'm even giving you an advise. Let's see if you are bright enough to follow it.

He would never lay a hand on this door, he swore to himself.

The inside of the house gave a good explanation why it was so small - the garage was underground. The warm-white light flaring up upon their entering revealed a spiral staircase leading downstairs, while a ramp for a car circled around it.

"Close the door behind you.", Sigyn said, and began her way down the stone stairs.

Tony nodded, though she couldn't see it, and put a hand on the door.

The sun was shining bright and warm. Birds sang in the trees. A breeze beckoned him forwards, into the garden, into a possible escape.

_Don't ever go outside without someone beside you._

_Close the door._

It had to be one of the hardest things he ever had to do to close the door, to cut himself off from the tempting freedom. 

He knew that he wouldn't be able to escape - he was still to weak, to weary, without clothes and without knowledge where he was. Sigyn would catch him before he left the ground, and if not he would never make it to the tower, not to mention he still did not know the reason for Louis' ominous warning - dogs maybe? The kind that you used to keep strangers out, and yet kept Tony in?

Still ... closing the door felt like giving up, like giving in. Like choosing a life as a slave over a life as a free man.

_It's only until I find a way to escape. A real way that won't lead back here, won't lead to punishment. I've been here for only two days. They are alert now, but in a few days, some weeks tops, they'll forget about me. It's not so bad, for now. Louis's okay, there's no need to try an escape that will only anger him, when with some patience I can escape for real._

He couldn't deny that it was a rather unsatisfying excuse. 

When he turned around he looked directly at Sigyn who was watching him with an unreadable face, though he thought he saw a approving spark in her eyes. A test. A test he had passed, obviously, for she just turned around and continued downstairs without comment.

He followed her more slowly, feeling his way down carefully. The stairway was lit by a great number of lights, but he found that he didn't want to be to fast. There was no way for him to know what was lying ahead, and he would much prefer if Sigyn had the time to disable any other security measures before he stumbled into them.

His caution was forgotten the exact moment he rounded another time and a new set of lamps flared up ahead of him, bathing the entire room in an almost daytime-light.


	15. A day with Sigyn II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> emotions, emotions, emotions ...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, that's the last of my pre-written chapters. I'm sorry to tell you that updates will take more time now. I will try for 2 chapters a week, should be more after I finished the Advent calender story my friend ordered.

Cars in every color of the rainbow, though mostly a dark red and an even darker green. Oldtimers as well as some of the newer models. A cabrio. Something that looked almost like a tank. A jeep. Some family cars. A VW beetle. A fucking limousine. And on one side ...

Tony gasped. Even from the doorway, and without seeing most of the room he could tell that this was a collection that didn't rival his own but _was actually better_. He couldn't believe, just stared at the vehicles before him.

A Rolls Royce Silver Ghost. A Ferrari 275 spider in fucking yellow. A blue Bugatti Royale. A silver Jeep Grand Cherokee SRT8. A Porsche 918 Spyder in gold - how the fuck do you get Porsche to make you a gold car? A green Hennessey Venom GT. A red Bugatti Veyron Grand Sport Vitesse.

"Wow.", he whispered, almost but not really daring to let his hand stroke over the bonnet of a Pagani Huayra, then his attention was captured by another car. Being of an unassuming black it was easy overlooked, but he could see it, couldn't deny it.

"That's a Mercedes 540K spezial roadstar.", he whispered reverently. 

A light chuckle answered him, and looking up he saw right into Sigyn's proud face. "Yes, it is.", she said. "He's beautiful, isn't he?"

Tony could only nod. "I always wanted one.", he said, dreamily, looking back at the black car some of his more wet dreams circled around.

"You do?", she asked, surprised. "I wouldn't have thought that you're the kind of man to own an oldtimer."

Smiling he answered. "I'm not. But that has nothing to do with old or new. This car ... that's just classic, you now? It's like living history." He swallowed. "Can I ... can I touch him?", he asked, still not able to take his eyes off the car.

"Of course." There was surprise in her voice. "Just be careful - I'm still not fully through with the restoration."

Tony stilled. "You're doing it yourself?", he asked. He would never have thought that she was that kind of girl. But then ... it _did_ explain the smell, which wasn't exactly what was to expect in a normal garage and reminded him more of a repair-workshop. Also the fact that the car stood aside from the others, shielded by a low wooden wall.

"You think I can't do it because I'm a girl?", she asked, her voice cold.

It was no problem to meet her stare. "No, I'm asking because there aren't much people out there who can do that.", he said, unimpressed. Not waiting for an answer he turned again to the car, let his hand glide over the car-body; bonnet, driver's door, high door line, rear. That was so cool and he felt so giddy, so focused as he hadn't been since ... fuck, much too long to think about it now. "What's wrong with him?", he asked, looking under the car. For something must have been wrong, otherwise it wouldn't stand here, obviously waiting to be fixed.

"You know something about the restoration of cars?", she asked, which made him snort.

"Baby, I've been fixing cars for longer than you own a driver's license.", he said, unthinkingly, still only seeing the car before him, in his mind already pulling it apart, putting it's structure down to schemes, numbers and lines that were easy to understand. "Don't tell me - you tried it with the local cars shop and they mucked it up."

"Not with the 540 roadstar.", she admitted. "But yes, they proofed to be pretty incompetent. I had to figure out how to do it in pure self-defense." She came to stand beside him when he opened the hood, a dark, warm figure anchoring him in reality. 

"Don't ever go to a car shop if you can help yourself, darling.", he advised absentmindedly. Was there something wrong with the inject-...? "There are some good ones, but sadly there's no way to know that from ... he doesn't start?"

"That's one of the problems.", she said, a bit amused but mostly focused on the topic herself now. "I also have some problems with the axle, and the color doesn't match up because of the different metal sheets. Someone tried to fix him before, and he did a poor job at it."

Tony snorted. "Wrong polish, dollface. You'll just have to" It was then, between one moment and the next, that he realized what he was doing. Bantering with the woman that didn't like him. Bantering with the woman who was meant to be his _guard_. Calling her _dollface_. Ohfuck-ohfuck-ohfuck-oh

"Breathe, Anthony." Again, a steady presence beside him, a hand warm and reassuring on his shoulder. He struggled to follow the command, found it much much harder than he ever would have expected, his breath hitching in his throat, his head becoming light ...

A hand suddenly covered his eyes, the other pulled him close until his forehead was resting against a chest. Unable to see, and with a loud roaring and screeching filling his ears, his mind automatically flung itself on the other senses - comforting warmth around him. A hand awkwardly petting his back. The strong smell of oil and leather and sweat in his nose, familiar enough to comfort him.

Slowly, oh so slowly his panic attack subsided and he began to hear the words Sigyn still said to him. _Hear_ being the important word, for it was said in the same tongue that she had used earlier in her conversation with Louis, the one that sounded a bit like Thor's language, and he couldn't understand a word she said. But that wasn't important; important was the tone, soft and warm and comforting, telling him he was safe and loved and had nothing to fear.

He began to relax under her hands, her voice, her smell, bit by hesitant bit, until he felt embarrassment creep red into his cheeks and he tried to wiggle himself free of her embrace.

"Sorry.", he mumbled. He couldn't believe it - getting a panic attack due to dreams, okay, that was outside of his will, but getting one while being awake? He hadn't had one since the stunt Killian pulled with extremis.

Sigyn didn't seem to mind. "It's okay, Anthony.", she said, and her voice was as warm as it had been this entire time. "You've been through a lot of hardship, it's just natural that you have difficulties becoming accustomed to being safe again."

He shuddered. Safe. _I'm not safe_., he thought.

Or probably said, unwillingly, for Sigyn answered: "Of course you are. Why wouldn't you be?" The real surprise in her voice roused him again.

"I am _owned_.", he said, embarrassed to hear his voice break at the last word. Furious with himself for letting this conversation getting so to him he turned his head, only to have her catching him by his chin, turning him back and looking at him with understanding showing on her face. 

"Yes, you are.", she said, firmly. "And this is the safest place you can ever be." Fingers petted over his head, so similar to the other fingers which had done it only minutes ago, and a stray thought asked _have they been an item sometime?_ , but he couldn't find it in himself to care because she continued: "Lou never allows harm to come to things that are _his_. He may make you do some things you won't like, but he will never do anything that will break you, and he will come down with the wrath of the gods on anyone that does you harm. Never fear Lou, Anthony. He will keep you safe."

He looked in her eyes - eyes so blue and young and old like Louis green ones - and saw there a sorrow he couldn't understand, found himself wondering what Louis had rescued her from.

"Why do you ... why are you so nice to me?", he asked, haltingly. "You don't like me."

She blinked, obviously surprised, then smiled a rather predatory smile. "It's not that I do not like you, Anthony.", she said. "It's that I don't trust you. You ... I have been Lou's friend for more years than you would believe, and I know how he is with strangers. In all these years I have never ever seen him fall so fast, so much for any one person. You are dangerous for him, Anthony. Not by doing anything, but by simply being. And Lou isn't the only one that's protective of people he calls his."

Tony ... had nothing to say to this. Him being able to hurt Louis? The man who owned him? Who could do everything to him that he wanted, could use him how he wanted it?

Okay, he understood about emotional wounds - but the man knew him for, what? 48 hours? There was no way someone became that attached to his pet in this short time.

But he chose the wise path for once and didn't point that out to Sigyn who was still watching him with a sincere look.

"You don't have to believe it.", she said. "But be aware that whatever you have experienced before will be nothing compared to what I will do to you should you ever hurt him."

That got a most unexpected reaction from Tony - he felt relieved, knowing for once where he was standing with the woman. "Okay.", he agreed, almost lightly. "Since I have no intentions to do so." And, the most weird thing? He really had not. Of course, he would make sure that Louis faced justice for being a slave owner and all that, but he had not the slightest inclination to _hurt_ the man. The way he had treated him - never doing him harm, always so caring - had him wanting the man to be fine. "Does that mean we can be friends now? Friends that help each other fixing their cars?"

He wouldn't have dared to ask that this morning - hell, he wouldn't have asked it even after his crying fit - but somehow her threatening him brought them both on a plateau where it was possible to ask her that, even if his stomach still did somersaults at the thought of what he had asked her. 

But there was a 540 K roadstar ... and he had always wanted to get his hands on one ...

Sigyn ... smiled. "You are impossible.", she said, enunciating each word, but grinning in a way that made his heart a lot lighter. "How you have managed to survive on your own is beyond me."

He answered with a cheeky grin that always made Pepper forgive him ... at least most of the time, sighing in exasperation, rolling her eyes, but giving in to her urge to laugh in the end.

As did Sigyn, though that could also be due to him saying, still grinning: "I don't. I have Pepper and Rhodey and a full squad of Avengers plus group-own babysitter for that."

The way she reacted made him forget about the easy way she accepted his statement that he _still had_ the Avengers and his friends to care about him.

"So, since you seem to be so intend on doing something with my car - what do you propose?", she asked and excitement filled him when she lead him back to the oldtimer, actually giddy with joy to be allowed playing with this classy shine new thing.

"I thought it was Louis'.", he asked, distracted, while he leaned again into the open mouth of the car.

She laughed lightly beside him, following his look but keeping out of the light, which he appreciated. There were grown-up technicians that didn't know how to do this properly. "I ... There is an oath I swore, which prevents me from taking money for my services. So he is showering me with gifts, mostly cars I happen to tell him I would like."

Tony grinned. That reminded him of his own attitude towards the Avengers whenever he had the opportunity to have them under his own roof and in his proximity, so he could feed them up and set a lab with everything a scientist could dream of in front of there nose, build a shooting range in one of the floors and a gym in another, complete with a punch bag made of material developed to withstand the likes of Captain America, Thor and the Hulk.

The realization hit him like a cold shower. If Sigyn was right - and why would she be wrong? - then Louis and him weren't so different. And even if he still couldn't believe her claim that Louis did care for him, there was no denying that he _did_ care for Jean and Sigyn and Mary in the same way that Tony did care for his friends.

And that did mean that maybe, just maybe, Tony really didn't need to fear him.

He didn't want to think about this now. So instead he grinned and indicated a part that wasn't properly hooked up. "Ever thought about fixing this ...?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter is almost finished, I will try to put it online on Friday.


	16. A day without Anthony I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What is so important to leave Tony alone ...?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who knows a lot more about cars than me and didn't point out all the mistakes I probably made in the last chapter ... ;)
> 
> Also - sorry for the delay in updating, but I struggled with the next Loki-chapter and I didn't want to put something online that I had to change later again.
> 
> I hope you enjoy

It took a lot of willpower to leave Anthony there, standing in the kitchen like an abandoned kid about to face the aunt he never wanted to have anything to do with. Not that he thought Sigyn would harm Anthony - at the moment at least the man was safe from her, seeing as how much helplessness and neediness he was emitting, not to mention the fact that he was unable to defend himself, much less harm another - but she was capable of a protectiveness when it came to her loved ones that transformed in mistrust and coldness for strangers. Under normal circumstances there would be no question as to if Anthony could charm his way under her ice wall, but at the moment he gave Loki the feeling he might shatter under a harsh word, and he really didn't want to chance that. 

So he was reluctant to leave him in the kitchen - the lost boy, the wounded pet -, but he really needed to attend this meeting or Mikey was going to kill him. And then there was that other thing he had to take care of.

Still lost in thoughts he left the house, but the car waiting for him in front of the house pulled him right back into reality. Sigyn had informed him that it was a volvo, which was more than he ever wanted to know about the car for the one fact he never could get over was that it was pink. A hideous, nausea inducing pink.

And he would have to drive in this car to the meeting. _Sigyn’s better being really good to Tony for that_ , he thought growling while going in.

It had been some time since he last drove a car, not to mention that he'd never driven the volvo, but he was good enough at it that he needed no time at all to remember the important things - like, where the gas pedal was, and that he was supposed to release the hand brake - and drove out of the mansion.

 

?Â¿

 

When he held the car in front of the company building a man came over immediately, standing by his door and obviously waiting for him to disembark so he could drive the car away. 

A small smile played over Loki's lips; he wasn't the only one to find this car's color hideous. But on the other hand - this was _his_ car. And the best way to both protect the car's dignity and his own was to pull this off in the most stylish of ways. Something Loki had always been very good at.

"Put a scratch on this baby and my chauffeur is going to kill you.", he said, sweetly, and the man visibly paled under his tanned skin.

Smirking to himself he took his luggage and the black jacket he only ever wore so he wouldn't attract the wrong kind of attraction and left the volvo in the care of the young man while he himself strode through the doors an uniformed employee held open for him.

Inside he was awaited by an agitated Michael who probably thought he would be fashionable late. Really, the guy should know by now that he wasn't like his last boss, seeing as he was Loki's personal assistant for more than half a year now, but then bad habits were difficult to break free from. At least he hadn't called him again to remind him of the meeting (and he hoped that he hadn't bothered Jean or Mary to inquire after him, like he had _that one_ time). 

"Louis!" Mikey was trying to hide how relieved he was, but he was doing a poor job at it. Really, if not for the fact that he was one of the best assistants Loki had been able to find he would never have hired him for fear he might be confused with someone who actually needed a babysitter to look after him. Someone like Tony Stark, possibly."Louis.", Mikey said again, calmer this time. "Jon's already upstairs, we're are waiting only for you now."

Another of Mikey's annoying ability's - he managed to always sound as if Loki was late, even when he was ten minutes early like today and his CEO wasn't doing much else but accept a coffee from an assistant of their host. Maybe he really should have a word with him about that ...

"It's okay, Mikey.", he found himself saying, reassuringly. "We still have a lot of time." _Also, LenhardCompany needs this deal much more than we, so what do you think they will do?_

Michael relaxed a bit, calming down under the influence of Loki’s own calmness, but that didn't stop Loki from frowning down at him. 

"What is it?", he asked.

Mikey stopped mid-track, then sighed and pulled a card out of his breast-pocket. "You remember that reporter? The freelancer trying to make his name?"

How couldn’t he? The man had actually followed him for two weeks wherever he went, trying to find dirt on the white vest or a body in the clean cellars of one Louis de St.Marin. When Loki finally had enough and had him removed from his view by means of a court order he actually told them the reason for him harassing Louis was that, quote, "No-one can be this squeaky-clean as this guy pretends to be."

Okay, he had a point, but that didn't mean Loki wasn't hurt to be found out not by bad performance, but by someone unwilling to believe in the lie. Where was the optimism humans were supposed to have? 

Though ... if the reporter started to follow him around again he might really have a problem this time. The man had, by means Loki couldn't even fathom, managed to get past the spirits that guarded his land and break into his house where he had taken some pictures Loki would really have liked to strangle him for (nothing to have bad press, but he really hated the one where he was lying at the pool, sleeping for the first time in three days after Jean and Mary - with Sigyn's help, obviously - managed to drug his drink; Mary had a copy framed in her office she forbid him to take down, telling him how cute and innocent he looked on it). If this man again gained access to the house he might run into Anthony, and that wasn't something he could let happen.

"He still trying to prove my evil schemes by pestering my people?", he asked with an exaggerated sigh.

Mikey shook his head. "Not really. Just said he wanted to apologize, that he really believes you now, and that you should call him if he can ever help you, so you both might settle this case."

Loki raised his eyebrows. That actually didn't sound like what he was wont to hear from humans. To be exact, it sounded like a bad movie, the kind with the redemption seeking hero.

His assistant pretty much agreed, going by his look. "He gave me his card, told me he's sorry for everything he caused you, and then backed out again, ten minutes ago or so."

That ... wasn't something Loki had seen coming, and he would have to think carefully how he wanted to use or not use that. For the time being he relieved Mikey of the card and, sensing that this had probably been the reason for getting his assistant so agitated, he said: "Don't worry, Mikey. I'm not running out trying to catch the guy and beat him up. There are actually some good people on this planet." _I just don't happen to be one of them. Oh, surprise._

The other man nodded - either not knowing of Loki's ambiguity or not caring about it - and let himself be dragged over to the elevator. Once in he again became the absolutely unshakable assistant Loki so valued, the one that could face down the press, unhelpful secretaries and big dogs with sharp teeth alike, and he pulled a file from under his arm and presented it to his boss.

Loki took it with raised eyebrows, chasing thoughts of gold-digging reporters out of his mind. "Has something changed since last I looked inside?", he asked. At least it looked like the copy of the contract they had agreed upon at their last meeting.

Mikey gave a helpless little shrug. "There is a small demand they added, and I thought you would want to look at it before entering the room." He pointed it out and Loki glaced over the passage briefly.

He raised his brows even higher. "Tell me, Mikey, was I wrong to think we had reached a consensus in our last discussion?"

A small smile played around Mikeys lips. "No, boss.", he said, and they both knew what that meant.

The door opened to a small reception room, doors giving the view free to the conference hall. Jon was standing at one side of the table, a cup in his hand, two man of Lenhard beside him. Upon hearing the elevator-doors opening he looked up, gave Loki a smile rather like Mikey's had been - unimpressed, predatory. 

Oh yes, this would be fun.

Lenhard came in not long after - probably someone had warned him that his important meeting had arrived - and shook his hand, introducing him to his new assistant - a guy named Simon Hufflepuff that Loki dismissed as unimportant immediately - and a lower secretary - Theodora Moriaty, and by no means was she just a secretary - and also again to the rest of the staff - all in varying degrees of nervousness and trying to hide it.

Loki gave the appropriate nods and false smiles - couldn't let them see how convincingly he could fake a real smile - and then everyone settled down. 

There was a bottle of water before him - without carbonate acid, what he appreciated - and a glass, which he made use of. He knew that he was watched by Lenhard and his people, anxiety building in them, but he didn't let it hurry him up. He was very versed in this ways of politics, after playing it for decades in Asgard and even with the Ljósálfar, which were the unchallenged victors in making this game as complicated and seemingly chaotic as possible. It really was just Lenhard's problem that he tried to play someone not even the Ljósálfar could properly handle.

Then, eventually, he looked up and the first round of seemingly unimportant small talk began.

 

?Â¿

 

It hadn't been difficult to deny Lenhard's demand, even to go as far as to make one of his own in retaliation for this arrogance - _no-one_ was allowed to try to weasel his way around Loki's boundaries -, and all that before lunch, which made everyone happy, even Lenhard himself who at that point hadn't been sure anymore that Loki would still sign the papers at all.

So there was plenty of time left of the day, and the invitation to lunch that Lenhard gave him wasn't appealing the least. From what he remembered of their last meal the man wasn’t pleasant to be around at a meal. No, he would much rather eat at home, and that meant giving an excuse that wouldn't insult the man too much.

Fortunately that was something he was good at and so he was on his way again half an hour later, while Mikey and Jon stayed behind to make sure all was going well.

The reporter hadn't left his mind as much as he would have liked to during the bargaining, and had Loki not been this adept in it it would have put him in a pretty great disadvantage. On the other hand - he now had an idea how he might use the offer of the man to his advantage.

But there was something he had to take care of first, and so he just got the entrance boy to get his car - behaving himself like there was nothing wrong with a grown-up man in a dark green suit and a black mantle going in a pink lady-car - and drove until he reached his favorite café, a small shop situated next to an equally small patch of trees that humans called park. He found a parking spot just around a corner, got himself a piece of blueberry cake and a coffee-to-go, then went to the park and sat down on one of the three benches there.

Biting in his cake he got his phone out and called a very familiar number. It rang only two times before it was answered by a sultry female voice.

He grinned. "Hello Amora.", he said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No, I don't know Amora. I read her Wikipedia-entry, then decided - who cares? and changed her character, family, ... around everything but her looks. Please don't kill me for that.


	17. A day with Sigyn III

Spending the day with Sigyn in the garage was ... both awesome and absolutely weird. Whenever he got absorbed in the work enough he actually forgot about the last months, would feel like they were in StarkTower and he could command her around. But every now and then he would issue an order to Jarvis, or look up and see he wasn't in the tower, or even just recall that this wasn't his car - and then it all came back, crushed him down even more than a cold shower could do, made sweat break out over his whole body, shivers running over his skin. It wasn't so much that he feared what Sigyn would do - he had called her dollface again and some even less complimenting words, too, without her becoming angry - but more the fact that he simply was not free - that Sigyn was meant to be his guard and would, without hesitation, stop every attempt of his to escape.

Still, he lost sense of time so much that he let, startled out of his thoughts, a wrench fall down on the bonnet when the quiet gong he now came to associate with mealtime rang through the room. A horrified sound escaped his throat, and he quickly checked the metal to make sure that there was no dent in it.

Sigyn made a frustrated noise. "He really has horrible timing.", she said. Then she looked down at the car and Tony almost hoped she would decide to continue with the fixing despite the mentioning of food had his stomach growling quietly, but then she sighed and made a small gesture, giving him to understand that they would have to leave now.

The way back was much less awkward then it had been in the morning, both still without speaking, but it was a companionable silence rather then a slightly hostile one. He could enjoy the sun more, and when he again opened the coat a bit - recognizing that he had become used to it chafing a bit over his not-used-to-clothing-anymore-skin - she just shot him an amused look.

It was back in the kitchen - him having left the coat hanging in the entrance hall - when things threatened to become awkward again. Normally he would sit beside Louis, but as he wasn't here ...

Before more than a light shiver could run down his spine Sigyn took his hand, brought him over to the chair she preferred, and he sank down gratefully. Having his eyes trained down he didn't catch the pitied look she shot him, but he did feel her fingers in his hair, calming him down a bit more.

Jean began serving them while Sigyn asked: "Did he call?"

There was no doubt who she referred to.

Mary snorted - or did at least the small-elderly-woman equivalent of it - and answered: "He would only call me before you when he was in danger and wouldn't want you to know about it, and how could he be in danger when he's only gone to sign the deal with this Lenhard-guy?"

Sigyn obviously wasn't calmed by that. "He's able to get in trouble all the time.", she said, but there was a lot of affection in her voice.

Jean snorted, trying not to laugh. "Yes, he is.", he said, and then the three of them shared a look that spoke of long familiarity and shared exasperation.

After that the topic changed, jumping between knitting and News to the policy of some companys - though there was no mention made of StarkIndustries - and also science. Tony was intrigued. He hadn't paid attention to their discussions before, but that had been clearly his loss, for all three of them seemed to be well learned and up to date on a lot of topics, including some he was interested in himself. And while they were careful - he couldn't quiet bring himself to believe in chance - to never touch topics like StarkIndustries or the Avengers, even only skimmed over various super villains, he got more infos about the world listening to them than he had in all the months before.

It was Mary standing up, and the discussion over the weather of the next day concluding, which made him realize both that he had eaten two plates - again - and that the others had finished some time ago.

Blushing he swallowed - did they really wait for him to finish his meal?

Jean grinned down to him. "Thanks for enjoying my cooking.", he said, amused and warm.

It had Tony blushing even more, gave him a warm, comfortable feeling in his chest. This was Jean treating him like an equal, like someone of worth - a bit teasing, but with a familiarity that one normally reserved for friends.

He hadn't been treated like this, ever, by anyone but his closest friends - Pepper, Rhodey, some guys in high school - and the Avengers. Oh, there had been teasing, but it had never felt like coming home. And never had the nurses he had as kid, or even this mother, felt so much at ease with him to mock him the bit he needed to know that his entire being was welcomed, that it was understood that he needed to be challenged to feel welcome.

So this was entirely unexpected, and he could only stare at Jean, which made him look even more amused.

Embarrassed Tony looked down, heard the light laugh of the other and the warm "You know, red really looks good on you."

A light hit could be heard, and a playful "Ow!" told him that it was Jean on the receiving end.

"Don't tease the boy so much!", Mary scolded, and Tony would have felt insulted if she hadn't continued with "And don't you dare giving me your evil look! I've faced down worse than little puppys like you!"

Okay, from her point of view they probably really were only boys.

Jean ... seemed to be not so accepting of that, and when she got up to leave the room he actually followed her, trying to proof he wasn't this much of a kid and acting actually even more like one.

"He's an idiot.", Sigyn said fondly. "Don't let him bother you; he doesn't want to hurt."

Tony nodded - that much had been clear for him.

After a while, getting a bit bored sitting there on the tile floor, he glanced up at the woman who still sat looking through the window in a rather detached manner. He watched her thinking, obviously trying to make a decision, until she abruptly looked down to him. 

"You were a fighter.", she said, a bit harsher than before.

Tony nodded again, slowly. Where was she going with that? 

"You know anything about fighting without weapons?"

Furrowing his brow he asked, uncertain: "Karate, or something?"

Sigyn nodded. "Yes, that. You know how to fight?"

Licking nervously over his lips - and being even more aware of the exhaustion that had, again, settled over his muscles, but also of the friendliness coming off the woman, the memory of the shared morning - he nodded. "A bit, yes. Natasha ..." His voice broke at the mention of the other woman, the one he had come to think of as a friend, the one whose name he hadn't spoken since ...

"Do you want ... in the afternoon Lou usually spars a bit with me. I know, you're not at your best, but you'll need to train eventually, and we won't do anything to stressing."

Louis hadn't gone fighting with her yesterday. He had gone up to his study, sitting there with Tony sleeping next to him. Exhaustion forgotten in the wave of a conflicting warm feeling, he just said: "I'll .. try?"

She smiled. "Thank you.", she said. "Come up, then, I'll show you the gym." Her voice sounded excited like a young kid's.

The gym, it turned out was down in the "boring" basement, which turned out to be not so boring at all, and while Tony felt grateful for Louis deciding that he rather wanted to go outside - _thought Tony might rather want to go outside?_ \- he felt a pang of excitement about seeing this other part of Sigyn even when he still was nervous about being beaten to pulp in a few moments. And let's face it, that was exactly what was going to happen - he was to weary, and never had real training since his self-defence-teacher quit after he told him he would rather fuck his little sister than play Bruce Lee with him.

Fortunately his mother never tried to make him go there again.

When they reached the glass door to the gym he was shivering and his legs were shaking so much that even had he wanted he wouldn't have been able to go in there. Not even thinking about Sigyn's disappointed face, or his wish to please her, to be her friend, could make him ignore the fear that was overriding everything he wanted his body to do.

Sigyn became aware of it when she was halfway through the room, looking back to see him standing at the door.

There was a mirror behind her, and when she turned, moving a bit to the side, he could see himself - white as a ghost, large eyes, and an expression as if he had been forced to do the single most feared thing in the world.

She was beside him again in seconds, but this time she wasn't the anchor to reality, but rather an enemy striking for attack and he recoiled instinctive, tried to press himself even more in the wall and when she, after a short hesitation, went to him again, he bolted, sprinted down the floor, just awayaway _away_ from her-

Arms folded around him, a weight pressed against his back, threw him down. Suddenly he was lying down, something sitting on him, pressing him down, suffocating him, trying to subdue him, but he wouldn't-never-What-can-I-do-How-can-I-escape-, struggling, fighting, Can't-hear-can't-see ESCAPE!

Only when he was so weary, when he felt like he wasn't able to do anything anymore did he stop - no, not stop ...he just wasn't able to make his body obey anymore.

Shivering, almost unconscious he lay there, fear dulled by pure exhaustion, the roaring in his ears only slowly receding, making him able to hear the words dripping down on him like a never ceasing flow.

"It's okay, Anthony. I'm sorry, I should have realized that I'm asking too much. You're doing fine, Anthony, real fine. Nothing will hurt you. _I_ won't hurt you. You're _safe_ , Anthony, do you hear me? You're safe hear. Just tell me you're here with me again and I will let you up ..."

The last sounded like a good suggestion and Tony tried to articulate as much - the floor was clean, but cold, and his body hurt, seemingly everywhere, his head throbbing painfully - had he fallen on it?

The noise that escaped him - a groan as if from a wounded wolf - together with his lying still had her easing up on him, slowly and obviously still half expecting another attack, but even had he wanted to he didn't have the strength anymore to fight, and so he just lay there on the hard floor, waiting for what was to come.

A hand rested on his back, slowly smoothing down, petting him. He was tense for a long while until he relaxed with a sigh, let himself melt into the floor.

"I beg your pardon. ", Sigyn said, sincere and a bit stiff in her apology. "I should have thought before asking you to do this." A short silence, then: "I would ask you to continue working on the 540K, but maybe ... maybe we should rather do something less stressing?"

Tony huffed a bit. Okay, that was unnerving - he normally didn’t agree with people that had him hurting this much. "Okay.", he murmured, when Sigyn’s silence made it clear that she really was waiting for an answer. "Don’t think I’m up for anything else anyway."

Sigyn laughed. "Let’s see.Maybe we can play chess - from what I know, that should be a fitting punishment for me."

Tony’s mood got better. Showing off his genius? Yes, that sounded like fun.


	18. A day without Anthony II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not only Tony has feelings about this situation ...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A comment by Anonymouse made me aware that I've been remiss in telling about Loki's feelings in this matter. I hope it's not too confusing.

The woman on the other side of the line was still for a moment, then she laughed out loud. "Loki!", she said, clearly amused. "How is my favorite trickster faring?"

He snorted. "As if you wouldn't know, Amora. Or did you anger Heimdall enough that he's not speaking to you anymore?"

She laughed again, pretending to be an innocent lively girl she hadn't been since before her adolescence. "Heimdall adores me still, and you know that. My lovely darling-brother would never stop talking to me - norns forbid!" The sigh she let escape was exaggerated, but not by much, as Loki knew only to well. Before he had guarded Asgard Heimdall had been the guardian of his little sister - a sister he hadn't wanted until the time his father failed to return from a battle and the woman he had left Heimdall's mother for cracked under the loss. At first he had allowed his own mother to help, but eventually he had adopted Amora fully, leaving his own warrior-mother grinning about the way he indulged and spoiled and protected her.

Protected her mostly from the likes of Thor, who went out to mock the little half-elf-girl, made her life pretty miserable despite Heimdall's growling whenever they came near.

When Heimdall was given his post as Asgard's guardian, together with the power this post entailed, the attempts of the boys stopped, only to be replaced, some years later, by appreciating glances and whistles at her golden, sinewy shape. 

But by then Amora had long stopped to care about them, went much rather with Loki into the city and learned the magic her mother had left her with, went even so far as to encourage her teacher - a fair looking young woman called Freya who was from Ljósálfarheimr herself where it wasn't frowned upon when boys used magic - to teach the second prince. 

Heimdall had never been that happy about their friendship - Loki being Thor's brother and even in his youth already known for his mischief - but there was little he could do about the prince that had decided to befriend his delicate precious little sister. His attitude had mellowed out a bit when Loki actually stayed with her, even tried to protect her from the others, but only after what happened ... after he showed him that he was worthy, only then was he really acknowledged by Heimdall.

The fact that angered Loki the most? While he had remained steadfast to Amora throughout all this centuries, never wavering, never hurting her, it had taken Thor, who actually _had_ hurt her, even if it was just emotional and as a wild boy, only one single apology to be seen as Asgard's Golden Boy by Heimdall, too.

"You are awfully quiet, Loki.", she said, now serious, and he found that she was right - he had remained still for far too long now.

"Apologies, Lady Amora.", he said, formal, catching himself by inclining his head even though his friend couldn't see it. "I was caught up in thoughts."

"No pleasant ones, I do fear.", she replied, her voice soft and warm. He heard sounds from her end of the reception as if she was sitting down, shuffling covers around.

Frowning he counted the days, calculated and said, blushing: "I find I have to apologize again. I didn't think when I called, and now I woke you ..."

"I do understand.", she cut him off. "I never get the different time zones right, and it's not as if I was really sleeping."

That caught his attention; for Amora to worry about anything so much that she lost sleep was something he only rarely experienced. "What is it?", he wanted to know.

A short pause, then, reluctantly: "At the moment it is still only a vague possibility, but ... you remember the persons you told me to look out for?"

"Yes ..." Of course he did. He had only known that they existed through the other prisoners, and finding them had been a trial fit to be a hero's quest, but he had known from the first moment their existence came to his awareness that he had wanted to find them - to help them. "Someone found anything?"

"Maybe.", she cautioned him. "I have an informant who may or may not have seen something that may be what could be their home planet, and he tells me that there are magical traces, as if they have moved by teleportation."

"Where is it?" 

"Far in the outer space, beyond what even the fastest of Asgard's vessels could reach within a month, but ..." Again hesitation, but this time Loki waited, even if it was with held breath. "I have friends near that territory, and one of them is a magician himself. I bade them to search, but it will take time and luck to find what we search for."

"That is okay.", he heard himself saying, blood growling in his ears like a thunderstorm. He might have found them, or be near at least. That would bring him again a step further to holding his promise. "If they need anything ..."

"They will get it from you, I know. I'll send you the bill."

He laughed. "Please don't tell me you've been watching midgardian series's again?"

She grinned, he could hear it in her voice. "Why wouldn't I? It's certainly entertaining."

Joining in her joy he almost missed her next words. "You seem lighter today.", she observed.

Frowning down on his still only half-eaten pie he answered: "That is what Sigyn keeps telling me, too."

"Something happened?"

"I ... " He licked his lips, then dediced to tell her. Who else could he spill to, who would be, maybe, able to help him understand? "Do you remember Tony Stark?"

"The mortal you told me about? Iron Man?” She laughed a bit, tried to lighten his mood with a line he had given her on the man: "The man with the balls to offer you a drink during a war? The one you never ceased to be impressed by?"

Loki smiled to himself, again a bit blushing. Okay, so he had been intrigued by the mortal. 

"He ... isn't quiet this ballsy anymore. I told you that he disappeared?"

"Yes, you said something about him running away from his lost love and the responsibility."

"It seems ... I have been wrong. He did not run nor did he hide. He was abducted and ... let's say, an asgardian prison is a playground compared to what he went through, even when you aren't a prince." His words grew to a growl at the last syllables.

"You have him now." There was no question in her voice,

"Yes, I ... seem to have bought him?" He really relished that he could be honest and unsure with her without her thinking him weak.

"A sentient being?" Amora sounded only a bit shocked; like Sigyn she knew of the darker nature of every sentient race in this universe. 

"Yes ... I can't say I'm thrilled either, but ... I can't sat him free, and it seems to help him, so ..."

"It's okay, Loki.", she said. "Tell me what is it that weights your heart."

Her understanding filled him with a warmth he hadn't expected. Of course she would pick up that there was a problem, even though he had been able to hide it from Sigyn - the warrior, while smart, didn't have the attention of a mage. 

"I ... " He swallowed, tried to put his worries in words. An elderly woman with a poodle walked over, gave him a strange look that told him to be thankful that Amora wasn’t here to see him now - only picking up what was coloring his voice probably was enough. And he should be grateful that speaking to Amora he had instinctively switched to asgardian - the norns may know what the woman would have thought.

Again he swallowed, then he began again: "I hate him. I mean ... yes, I - I’ve been intrigued by him, and his work and mind, but ... he was there, grinning, laughing, _making jokes_ ... I wanted to rip his heart out, would have happily eaten it ... _I would have made him watch, Amora_." Something that _definitely wasn’t_ a sob pulled itself free from his chest and he had to stop, had to catch his breath that was now coming short, hitching, sounding like a wounded animal’s. When he calmed down again he continued - only because he had learned, the hard way, that keeping everything in didn’t work. At least not for him. 

"When I think about him now ... I could have left him in the cage I found him in, Amora. No-one would have been the wiser, and it’s not like it would have made such a difference in the course of things." Speaking like that - like Anthony didn’t care - hurt in his chest, made the anxiety raise again, and he had to break for a moment, had to regain his bearing. "Even ... even had I wanted to help him - I could have just called his little band of misfits. An anonymous call, untraceable - no-one would have known me the informant. Except ... _I didn’t even hesitate, Amora!_ I knew it would bring me inconveniences, it would cost me money and nerves, and still I _took him!_ Sigyn ... Sigyn even asked me why I would do that ..." He trailed off, coming to realize how long this had been going on, how much it had compromised him.

"Loki?", Amora asked. "You’re awfully silent there. What else -?"

He swallowed. "Sigyn said I’m acting a bit better since Anthony is here - with us, I mean. All-ending chaos, even Mary and Jean think I’m acting strange - normal, I mean."

"You have not been yourself, lately.", agreed Amora.

Again there was a sob coming up in him, but he suppressed it. "What ... what is happening to me, Amora? Why do I ... Why do I feel this way? Why do I want to protect Anthony, want to have him for myself, never letting him out? Why ... Why do I want to kill everyone who ever hurt him? Why do I want this, when _a part of me would still happily slice him open?!_ "

There was quiet on the other end of the line, then his friend said: "You’re afraid."

Loki paused for a moment - what was Amora speaking about? He was Loki, of Asgard, and he never was afraid!

Never, but when a did not know himself.

"I’m a mage, Amora. We both know - a mage who doesn’t know himself will perish. And ... I do not know what brings this feeling. It feels like a curse, but"

"But we both know that no-one has been able to curse you for decades." Again stillness, then, carefully: "Do you ... the way that you feel for Anthony? Does it feel like what you feel for me, for Idunn? For Thor?"

Loki bristled at the mention of his brother - the oaf was an dimwit, an undeserving clingy blockhead, and whoever thought to lay a hand on him would find himself faced with the business end of Loki’s daggers (one of the few things Amora and he ever had a fight about; in the end it had taken them almost five years to agree that Thor would never play a part in their relationship, letting Amora free to plan her - non-lethal - revenge upon her former tormentor and Loki to close both eyes when it came to their encounters).

"What has that oaf to do with-?", did he begin, but Amora interrupted him.

" _Think_ , Loki. What do you feel for us, what do you feel for Stark?"

Rolling his eyes he did as Amora suggested. Not that he saw a point in this - he knew that he loved them, all three - the friend he could trust with his fears, the brother he could trust with his back, and the little sister in whose company he always took delight. Before he could tell Amora what he thought of this little exercise she continued: "Imagine one of us in Stark’s place-"

She hadn’t ended her sentence when the harsh growl tore itself from Loki’s throat, a low hiss growing to the sound of a thunderstorm - sign of an anger that made his blood freeze and the pale-blue lines of a jotun visible even in his aesir-shape. Whoever thought to abuse those that were _his_ would find themselves without their entrails, not to mention their head and, in the end, when Loki was satisfied, without their lives.

"Is that how you feel about Stark, too?", Amora broke in his thoughts.

Blinking he pulled himself back from the black edge that suggestion had brought him to, took some deep breaths to calm himself down somewhat. "I-", did he began, then ... "Yes.", he whispered, recalling the almost overwhelming wish to rip the throat of everyone that was involved in reducing Anthony to _this_. "Yes.", he said again. "That is exactly how I feel about Anthony."

His voice sounded hollow, unbelieving, and he really couldn’t believe what he had acknowledged.

Fortunately he didn’t have to think about it for in exact this moment a hammer came flying his way, bypassing him only by a few meters, circling behind him and then came back, bypassed him on the other side and became faster again, hurrying back to his master’s hand.

"Amora?", he said. "I’ll call you back, okay?"


	19. A day without Anthony III

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait.  
> Couldn't get Loki's voice right, and wrote and re-wrote the chapter several times, but I'm still not entirely sure about it. Please tell me what you think.  
> Hope it won't be too confusing.

It wasn't difficult to find Thor and his bunch of heroic pets, even through the crowd on the streets hindered Loki in his progress. Years ago - many, many years ago - he had put a charm on Mjölnir, knowing that she would always find her master's hand. It was a small one, doing nothing than telling Loki Thor's whereabouts, but that was all he needed normally. 

Now it helped directing him in the general area, and then he only had to run against the crowd of humans trying to get away from whatever it was that called the Avengers to attack.

He had just reached a street corner - and the crowed had lessened somewhat, sweet chaos be thanked - when he heard the whistle and again Mjölnir circled around him. He grimassed - being Thor's blood brother had consequences, but this was by far his least favorite one (he hated being chased by that damn hammer). He was just lucky that Thor had never figured out that Mjölnir followed the connection between the two of them the way she did.

When he reached the plaza where they were gathered the first he saw was Hawkeye, and he felt a small itch in his head when the frayed connection between them tried to wake again. Long years and distance had taught him to ignore it, but that didn't stop it from reminding him of it's presence every time he was near one of his former thralls. Though - on the scale of things, Barton wasn't so bad. At least what he got from him was just a mix of anger and distrust, not the deep simmering hate Selvig felt, or the even more disconcerting madness most of the other had succumbed to (note to himself - should he ever need to make one of them his thralls again, teach them to properly break the bond lest it would be destroyed enough that he couldn't unravel it anymore and had to live with it. Disgusting).

Perched upon the roof of near tower, only visible through Loki's aesir-eyes, he held his bow, clearly waiting for the villain to give him a clear shot.

Not that this particular villain seemed to be willing to give him one, though less due to foresight and more because he was busy running around like a peacock and fighting Thor off.

 _Idiot_., Loki thought, having faced off against his brother often enough. No mortal could stand against the man that could subdue most aesir, even jotnar - the only reason the boy still was on his feet was his meager magic and the fact that Thor had been taught by Loki that to break magic with his hammer's full might could end in a lot of destruction.

Loki rolled his eyes. Had he known that he would have to watch such a pitiful performance he would have made sure that Thor could at least estimate the power of a sorcerer.

Though Thor being dumb as usual wasn't the real problem here, he had to admit after watching the fight for a few moments. No, the problem was the Avengers themselves - the fire in them was gone, the daring, the spark - the thing that made them what the humans saw in them. Of course, they fought with vigor - Loki hadn't known a fighting Thor to be any other way, and both the Widow and the Captain were good at fighting, too. But it seemed to be more of a duty, less of a ... what did heroes call it? A calling?

Disgusted he puckered his lips.

This wasn't it. This was ... this was what the Avengers were when one of their's was ripped from them, when they were still unsure of his fate, hoping for the best but fearing the worst.

It hadn't always been like this. When Loki encountered them first, with Thanos' army at his back, they had been less then allies, barely more than hostiles having a common enemy. Oh, of course, there were Romanov and Barton, and Stark and Banner had common ground in their science, but aside from that they hadn't been anything to each other.

Now ... now they had known each other for five years almost, three years in Thor's case, not always together but always aware of the others, writing, mailing, calling.

There was the tower that hosted apartments and training halls for them all, and Loki knew only to well that they were used more often than not, even if Barton and Romanov still had rooms at the Helicarrier, even if Rogers had a apartment in Brooklyn, and there still were days when Thor stayed with Jane Foster. But every so often Foster was in the tower, working with the better equipment Stark could provide her with. Rogers was there, sitting at his window, drawing pictures of the past and the present both. Romanov sparring with Thor and sometimes Sif, Ross laughing with Potts, Barton getting a check-up by Banner who still denied them to call him healer.

Loki had been in the tower often over the course of the last two and a half years, invisible watching this band of foes fight and laugh and live, becoming slowly, oh so slowly - and yet so fast, for an almost immortal god - a family.

He couldn't help but feel jealous, even though he knew that he didn't even have a right to it. But ... his brother had once again found friends in an unlikely place, like he did so often, so easily, was cheered at, when all Loki could do was find a few pet mortals, each as uniquely as himself. Oh, he was respected as the owner and boss of his company, but that was not Loki himself but the disguise he had formed, the man he had called Louis de St.Marin, the man that always smiled and laughed and wasn't even as real as fake money.

But there was something else as well that he was jealous of: he was jealous of the mortals for befriending his brother, spending time with him - jealous for this Jane Foster to actually change Thor when he had tried in vain to do the same for hundreds of years now. 

_How?! How could she do that?_

_How could Thor shame Loki so as to never listen to him, his sworn blood brother and companion of so many years, but to a mortal he barely even knew?_

A hiss escaped his clenched teeth and he stopped for a moment, breathing deep and reigning his anger in. He couldn't suffer the repercussions his temperament was prone to have, and so he again adopted the calm he normally spend his days in. 

When a small child ran into him, it's christmas-hat in danger of falling down, squealing and trying to find her mother, he just turned, caught it and pulled it up, taking it on his hip like he had done with his own kids, when they were still young enough to allow it.

He didn't particularly care for the kid, stinking of candy and a strange perfume as it did, but he never liked seeing children coming to harm, and if some photographer caught Louis de St.Marin while helping a child get out of danger ... well, he could always use the good press.

There was a shout above him, and suddenly Thor was falling down, flaring with his arms and legs.

The girl on his hip - he assumed it was a girl, at least, since it wore a pink jacket and he was lead to believe it was an unmanly color on earth (oh, and how he would enjoy telling that to some of the aesir's aging warrior-turned-politicans who thought themselves above him in their pink and yellow dresses.) - she was crying out a bit and asked, her tiny voice trembling with fear: "Are they losing?"

He looked down at her, smiling. "There's no mortal out there who is able to hurt the mighty Thor.", he said, his voice tinged with pride - even now, even feeling so betrayed, and angry and, yes, still frightened, he couldn’t stop feeling the pride he felt for his brother. "Do you see?"

And really, on the battlefield Thor had gripped his hammer once more, and this time he actually used it, obviously coming to the realization Loki had come to immediately, that this boy, while pretty inexperienced, was doing more harm than his subduing would cause.

And so he brought her down, let Mjölnir slam into the weak barrier that the boy had erected. The fragile magic broke with a high sound, almost but not fully the same noise that a fingernail may leave when scratching over a blackboard. The energy, now not caged in anymore, manifested as a wind of hot air that almost made Thor stumble and Loki had to suppress an annoyed huff. This mortal was even weaker than he had assumed; had Thor tried this trick with Loki himself it wouldn't be a ball of warm air but rather a wall of flames, destroying a good part of the city.

He really would have to teach Thor more about magic, even if only to stop Thor from embarrassing him further. Next chance he got (which wasn't to say a lot; at the moment they weren't exactly on speaking terms).

"Do you see?", he asked the small kid on his hip that was now, shivering from excitement (and fear, for he could smell this stink coming off her, too) and looking with big eyes at the great thunder god. "There is no-one who can stand against the greatest of all gods." 

"Ma says I can be a superhero, too, when I'm big.", she confided in him. "Can I then call lighting down, too?"

Loki looked at the kid, at the eyes so bright like stars and he smiled: "You can be everything you want to be.", he told her - the same words he had used when talking to his kids, and the memory almost, almost brought a smile to his lips. But then he remembered what Odin had done - remembered how he had to flee with them after his _father_ had ordered them killed on sight (a fact he had only become aware of years later, and only believed when he found out about Odin’s plans for him) - and now he really smiled, even if it was a rather nasty smile, because he also remembered what he had done to him in retaliation and that he still filled him with a cold, hard satisfaction.

The kid seemed to be thrilled by the prospect - still too young to know about the restrictions it would face, both ethical and gender-related - and he couldn’t find it in himself to tell her about that. Let her be a kid for some time yet, and have the dreams only a kid could dream.

He didn’t wait to see how the Avengers brought the villain down - he was still some streets away from the fight, and going nearer might call their attention to him.

And that he couldn’t have. Not now, when he still wasn’t sure how he wanted to kill them.

Not now that he had found out that he might feel for at least one of these mortals something no-one should feel for an enemy.

Or wasn’t it normal? He had always been rather possessive. Could it be that this was just the same feeling - possessiveness - that he had always felt for his toys? 

It would be so relieving for it to be the reason, but he couldn’t bring himself to believe it. Deep down he knew that it was something even more bitter, even more dangerous than that.

A shiver ran over his spine and he decided he wouldn’t find any solution now. Didn’t want to find a solution now, while he was still in enemy territory (even though a part of him contradicted that, told him he was were he was supposed to be) and had a kid literally hanging on him.

“Who are you?”, he thought to ask the candyflossed kid and it answered - in a way only a real dumb aesir or an avatar would answer, not knowing if the stranger asking was a magician using your name for a curse.

He smiled down at her, satisfied to find in himself not the least bit hesitation or regret when he considered turning her in a red splash on the floor, then asked: “Shall we find your mum, Lissy? She’ll be worried a villain may have found you.”

The girl nodded, giggling at the idea. “ _You_ found me.”, she said and he answered, grinning: “Exactly.”

It took him no time at all to locate the child’s mother - names had a power midgardians with their mostly untalented magicians couldn’t comprehend - and she thanked him so exuberant that he almost didn’t need the small charm to capture the reporter’s attention who immediately turned to them for a story and called Loki’s strategical retreat modesty. 

Even with the revelation that Amora helped him find, and the encounter with the damn hammer, it was a very good day. He had concluded the contract to even better terms than assumed, had hope now to keep his promise, and the photo of himself in the press with the little girl and her mother, in the background the burning building, was just the icing on the cake.

Had he not caught himself only half an hour later, coming out of a drugstore with a new razor and a ready plan how and why to give it to Anthony, he really would have been able to call it a successful day.


	20. Coming home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ähm ... can we just agree that I'm the person with the worst time management ever? I promise, updates will become more regularly again.  
> See - I'm even updating two chapters at once ...

Tony was right in the middle of defeating Sigyn again - she had some awesome strategic abilities, but that didn't make her a match for his genius - when he felt her stiffen.

Suddenly self-conscious he looked up, already half aware what he would see.

Louis was back. 

He still wore the jacket from earlier today, but had clearly refreshed himself a bit and there were also some stains on the shirt that hadn't been there in he morning.

He also seemed to be pissed.

Unconscious he ducked deeper, almost wanting to sink into the floor. The nice day with Sigyn had him almost forget what he was, and in which danger he still lived, but seeing this expression on Louis' face he couldn't ignore it any longer. The worst was, he wasn't even aware that he had done anything wrong.

"Why does Anthony smell of blood?", Louis asked harshly.

Tony ducked even deeper. Surely ... Louis had been so accepting with his fear, and what he did out of this fear. He hadn't even punished him after the first attack in his bedroom, and he wouldn't punish him when he only did run, would he? He hadn't done anything, hadn't hurt anyone. So please, he wouldn't ...?

Sigyn shifted a bit, but it was Louis himself who sighed frustrated and than said, still with that edge to his voice: "Relax. I'm not going to hurt you."

It did nothing to relax Tony, not when the man himself seemed so incredulous that he was here, reassuring Tony, as he was. Part of him wanted to go down on his knees, prostrate himself, just as he had been taught to do by his various former masters, but another was just confused - the part that had begun trusting Louis, no doubt - and a third began to be pissed as well.

Sigyn seemed to notice Louis' strange behavior as well. "What happened?", she asked. And then, patting Tony reassuringly on the knees where they were resting on the pillow they had put on the floors - Tony not being allowed on the furniture, and neither of them willing to sit on the floor -, Sigyn cocked her head and asked: "You went to see your brother?"

Louis sighed and seemed almost to deflate, sitting down in a pretty inelegant sprawl next to them. "Yes.", he said, and Tony wondered how that man’s brother would have to be to shatter his master's calmness. "That. And ... I had a talk with Amora. It had some ... interesting results." The last was accompanied by a frustrated laugh.

Okay, so ... at least he wasn't angry at Tony, though he knew good enough - from his own father, no less - that an angry man may lash out at the next best weaker being, in this case this being being him. So he just ducked a bit out of the way and tried to become one with the cushion under him.

It didn't work.

Instead it just made Louis sigh again, then he closed his eyes and took some deep breaths before opening them again, a bit more relaxed. Saying some words to Sigyn in that unknown language they shared he turned to Tony, taking his appearance in properly for the first time.

And he must be a sight. There were still some of the older bruises, but overlaying them there were now fresher ones - mostly just red scratches where he had been lying on the floor, Sigyn's weight pressed into his back, but also some cuts from her clothes and where he had chafed over the floor. The scars on his chest were even more sore than the rest of him, red and swollen and hurting like hell, promising to become even more sore till tomorrow. Sigyn had helped him clean up and had disinfected them, but he still was the example of a punished slave.

Swallowing he hoped Louis would let Sigyn explain before he drew any conclusions, or punished him for what he thought Tony might have done.

"It's my mistake.", Sigyn said, and Louis raised an eyebrow. 

"What did you do?!", he asked. "Anthony looks like he's been run over by a draka-flock."

Sigyn chuckled, though she seemed to be a bit embarrassed about it. "I'm ... I'm sorry, Anthony.", she excused herself for her outburst, trying to breathe. Then: "It was me, no Drakaina-female. I ... I just invited him along for the gym."

Louis groaned. "And told him you would like to spar with him? You're a fucking roy" He swallowed the rest of the sentence in a frustrated sigh, wearily rubbing his front head with a hand, before turning to Tony.

"Sigyn won't hurt you, but you have to tell her when you're uncomfortable with something she asks of you. Among her many strengths does empathy not make the list, and her observation skills are terrible when it comes to anything else but detecting danger." Shaking his head he chuckled a bit. "I hope the rest of your day was spent more enjoyable?"

Slowly he raised his arm, put it under Tony's chin. At first he froze under the scrutiny, but then he relaxed again, even though the thought - what would Louis think, what would he say, seeing all these new bruises, these signs that he hadn't been strong enough ...

He wanted so much to be strong, to be able to handle everything that life threw at him, but every one of these marks was a sign that he wasn't, that the people he had defied, he had fought with everything he had, had still left their mark on him. And that thought ... it made him sick, made him want to hide, to run ... he wanted to be free, wanted for no-one ever to lay a hand on him.

The sudden coldness coming from the hand resting against his chin drew his attention back to the present, made him hiss surprised and rock back, away from the sensation.

Then he sat there, on his heels, looking up at Louis in sudden fear. He wouldn't ... it had been just the surprise, he hadn't wanted to defy him, surely he would see this ...?

It seemed he did, for Louis just smiled a bit sad, but understanding, and again stretched his hand out to Tony, his fingers half curled and ... blue?

Not sure if his master would take it as disobedience he pulled a bit further back to look at the colored hand that froze upon his inspection, but after realizing that Louis wasn't about to punish him he took a better look at the fingers hanging in the air some centimeters in front of his face.

The hand in itself wasn't different from before - slender, almost fragile looking fingers, delicate wrist with a watch circling around it. But the color ... a deep cerulean blue, lighter where it disappeared up his sleeve, bleeding out to his normal human coloring, slightly deeper at the knuckles and jet-black at his nails ... claws. There was nothing to see of the faint lines and small hairs a human skin has, but that didn't mean his skin was entirely unblemished. There were lines - faint, a bit like light-wave cable - that ran over his hand, drawing patterns that almost seemed to be a tattoo if not for the fact that they seemed to pulse in time with a slow heartbeat.

"You're not human.", he said. Maybe he should have been surprised; why would he end up with a non-human? On the other hand - if someone was prone to end with an extraterrestrial being, who would have more chances for it? 

"I am not.", Louis answered, and Tony startled from the sound of the voice - still so velvety, so soft, but there was an edge to it like ice cracking in the distance ... and for the first time he realized that the skin, the hand was radiating cold.

He froze for a moment, then he deliberately leant forward, put his cheek against the cool hand.

Louis seemed to be surprised by this action - had he thought Tony to be frightened? Then he was in for a big surprise; one of Tony's best friends was a part-time green monster, another of his friends was an asgardian god -, but after a short moment he curled his fingers a bit more and the coldness that had only been a small point against him now became a numbing coldness. 

Cool fingers trailed down his cheek, his jaw, came to rest against the bruise the floor had left there. Tony could barely contain the grateful groan that rose in his throat, then decided he didn't care and leant forward, fully resting against the hand. His eyes closed halfway when he relaxed.

The feeling of a hand in his neck startled him up again, but Louis only used it to pull him against his frame, and hesitatingly he let himself be manhandled until he rested against the other's body. Coldness - _soothing, blessed coldness_ \- pressed against his whole body, absolutely wonderful in the way it helped with his bruises, and he felt himself rest against Louis in a way he wouldn't if not for how his body cried in ecstasy when all the pain seemed to disappear under the blessed cold.

Distantly he knew that this - that he could feel the cold all over his whole body - meant that Louis had to have changed entirely, had to be cold and blue and alien all over. But he didn't care. All he cared to know was that he wasn't hurting as much anymore, that in soothing him in this way Louis had dissolved any lingering fear in Tony he might be angry with him, and both had him relaxing so much that he practically melted against him.

Later curiosity could rear her head and make him ask the questions he felt burn on his tongue just under the moans of ecstasy, but for now he was content lying here.

"You are not afraid.", Louis said, his voice tinged with surprise and something else ... relieve? 

He nodded against the fabric of Louis' shirt, his jacket having disappeared some time ago. "No.", he whispered. There was no reason to. Not because Louis wasn't human, at least. Even more - it had been _humans_ that had hurt him, and in a way ... that Louis wasn't human made him feel even safer. He knew that it did not make sense, logically, but he felt this way nonetheless, and feeling safe ... he didn't want to lose that feeling.

So he clung to Louis, let the cold soothe him and pretended that the cold was _all_ he searched for.

He couldn't say how long he stayed there, Louis a cold, steady presence against him, before he felt him retreat. He had to consciously hold himself back from reaching out to him when he turned to Sigyn, asking: "Did you call for Lee?"

"Yes. He was out of the city for a visit with his daughter, but he caught an early flight back. He will be here tomorrow in the morning."

Startled Tony sat up. Lee probably was the doctor Louis had mentioned. Did Sigyn actually call someone back from a visit with his family just for a few bruises ...?

Obviously Louis could read his uncomfortability, because he turned back to him, put his hand against his cheek and said in a low tone, part warm, but also with a warning edge: "You belong to _me_ now, Anthony. And I do not appreciate something I own to become damaged. And if you need a doctor, then you _will_ get a doctor." He came even closer, spoke now almost in Tony's ear, his breath tickling him and warming his face. "And I will only accept a doctor I can both trust to give you the best treatment and trust to keep your being here a secret."

And, okay, yes, that was the pet owner again. The slave master. The man who owned him.

But he had said he wanted Tony to have the best treatment, and, even more, he had called a doctor for bruises Tony himself would have dismissed, not to mention what his earlier masters would have done - they would probably have given him a second beating upon this just for his inability to do as he was told.

He gave up trying to get behind Louis' motives and just nodded. Tomorrow, when he had slept, he would see if he couldn’t work out more.


	21. I'm gonna kill them all

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're like me and you have just skipped through to the latest chapter when you've seen that there was an update you should return to chapter 20 a this is actually a double-update as an apology for not updating for most of December ...

Loki looked down at the man he had now almost sitting in his lap, compliant and for the first time since he had found him in that cellar without fear.

Contrary to what Thor seemed to think - what Frigga had seemed to believe - he had known of his true heritage since early in his magic studies. Not his true parents - no, nothing so specific. But doing magic meant knowing what he was, and for him that had come with the realization that he was a frost giant.

He was really lucky that Freya was his teacher, and, even more, that she was a ljósálfar, less prone to be blinded by hatred than an aesir would have been. Even more - she remembered the time before the war with the jotnar, the time before Laufey, when jotunheimr was a place whose inhabitants were known for their absolute loyalty, their wisdom and power that triumphed even the aesir’s - and for the magic some of them had, a magic even the ljósálfar had never seen this strong anywhere else.

She was there to hold him when the realization struck him down, was the one to comfort him when he had thought his life to be ended before it even had begun.

He wasn't sure what he would have done if not for that woman, but he suspected it would have been something really  _really_ stupid. Suicide ... maybe not, not at this age, when Thor was still there to protect him, but then he didn't know how his brother would have reacted to this piece of news as a boy barely reaching puberty. And his parents ... he had no doubt Frigga would have tried to explain, to comfort, but she had wronged him and without Freya's guiding wisdom he wouldn't have had it in him to forgive her. Odin ... he still believed himself be loved by his adoptive father then, but without doubt he would have blamed him as well, and the king, wanting him only as a pawn, would maybe even have offed him himself when he proofed to be unable to control.

No, he really was lucky. Freya helped him come to terms with his heritage and Amora helped him see the benefits of it - magic of a strength unknown to every other realm, being able to procure ice for his best friend’s drink in even the hottest summer, and senses much sharper than any aesir's.

Still, he only changed seldom - when he was sure to be alone, or when instincts overwhelmed him - but there were some things he couldn't hide - his second son's skin color, his older daughter's scales or the younger's and Sleipnir's eyes. The way both his youngest son’s skins were cooler than an aesir’s, they were less interested in warfare and even at their age much taller than aesir many years their senior.

This made him even more intend on trying to appear normal - or, to be more accurate: he tried to be as unsuspicious distracting as he could be. For why should they search for more discriminating material when him being weak and uninterested in warfare was such a good spot to hit on?

So when he came home and saw Anthony sitting there in the sitting room, kneeling on a cushion and red all over, he only had one thought - he wanted to beat the shit out of the person that had done this to him, no matter  _why_ he would feel this way for a former enemy.

Learning that it was Sigyn, and an accident, didn't make the anger go away, it just took the target of his anger, and if not for Anthony's obvious fear he would have taken Sigyn down to the gym and let her beat the shit out of him. Would still do it, probably, but first he had to suppress his anger and make sure that his pet mortal was feeling better and less in pain.

It was almost instinct that had him change into his jotun-shape and reach out with his blue hand to cool the bruise at his jaw.

Then he saw Anthony become aware of the color and flinch, and cursed himself. Of course the man would be frightened - after everything he had to endure today he now had to come to terms with the fact that the man who owned him wasn't even human.

And then something happened that he would never have expected - Anthony  _lost_ some of his fear, curiosity lighting his eyes up when they traveled over his skin, up to where it disappeared under his sleeve, becoming paler with the warmth there, and to the tips of his fingers that ended in claws sharp enough to rip a bilgesnipe in shreds. He looked at them without fear, only wonder - the wonder of a kid, or a scientist, and Loki wasn't sure what to feel upon seeing this clear sign of Anthony becoming more himself again.

"You are not human.", the man said, startling him out of his thoughts, and he felt a small smile curl his lips. "I m not.", he conceded, waiting for the human's next action.

He was prepared for theatrics of every kind, but not for what he got: Anthony drawing near, brushing against his hand. He froze for a moment, unsure how to proceed - what would Anthony do when he felt his body's coldness? - but when nothing happened he curled his fingers around the cheek, let them brush down to his jaw and then pressed them fully against the bruise there.

He felt the shudder that shook Anthony's whole body, feared he had gone to far, then the man relaxed into him in a way he hadn't expected - leaning against his hand as Sleipnir had done as a foal, his eyes half-lidded, his features relaxed in a way he had never seen before - not when he was Iron Man, not when he was Tony Stark, and never as Tony the slave - and his possessiveness roared up, cried out, wanted to - no,  _needed_ to feel him, to be sure he was save, was cared for, was  _his_ .

He put a hand in Anthony's neck and drew him in - felt him tense up for a minute then relax again, practically  _melting_ against his side, his face burrowed in his shirt - he dismissed the jacket with a quick thought to let as much cool seep through to Anthony as possible.

"You are not afraid.", he said softly after some moments, felt how his voice tried to hold the tension that filled him up with this question.

Anthony shook his head a bit and mumbled "No.", audible only through his superior jotun-senses, and he felt something clench around his heart. This mortal, treated so badly by he world and now thrown into his lap, completely at his mercy, faced with the truth about his alien nature, was more accepting than most aesir would have been - had been, to be more accurate, though him being an asshole for centuries wasn't something he fully dismissed in this.

He wanted to hold him, wrap him up and keep him safe for the rest of eternity, only to be seen by himself and those he trusted.

_Mine_ , he thought, not caring the least that only weeks ago he had thought about the best, most satisfying way to kill this man.

It brought back that Anthony was still wrapped in bruises and he looked up, reluctantly let go of the other to look over to Sigyn and ask for Lee's whereabouts, for certainly she would know that he would want just the best treatment for the man ...?

She knew, and that Lee was away for his daughter was unfortunately but aside from magic there was no way to get him here instantly, and he respected Lee's wish for a certain distance between his world and Louis', and for a few already cared-for scratches that probably wouldn't be more than a painful reminder of this day's events he wouldn't break the man's trust in him.

But what was a logical step for him, and for Sigyn as well - the doctor owed him his live, his family's lives and his honor as well, not to mention that he wouldn't have a future without Loki’s starting capital, so to call onto him whenever he was needed was just a way to repay that debt - seemed to startle Anthony.

He shouldn't be surprised - the man had been treated as a slave for months now, no doubt no-one had really cared for his bruises. Still he found himself getting angry again - the man was  _his_ , and he should,  _and would_ , know it.

Bowing his head down to Anthony's neck, breathing the tangy, earthy scent of him, underlined by the smell of the leather collar, he whispered into the other's ear - promise, threat,  _pure unchanging fact_ . Told him what he was, and what that made him worth in his eyes, and he felt the possessiveness drip from every syllable but he didn't care.

Anthony belonged to  _him_ , and that was a fact so unchangeable as the color of the sky or the iciness of Jotunheimr, and he just wanted to make him see that, and, barring that for the near future, at least do everything in his power to make him feel as comfortable and cared-for as he could.

Still, there was something he had to do before he could realize that plan.

"Sigyn?", he asked.

The woman looked up from where she was busy putting the game pieces - chess? She was probably grateful for him to interrupt her umteenth lose - away. "Yes?"

He smiled, clearly hearing the _my prince_ she swallowed. "Seeing as Anthony is covered in bruises I think sleeping on fur, even one as comfortable as the rug, is going to be quiet painful." A startled motion from the man beneath him, but he planned to surprise him even further. "Since it is you who is to fault for Anthony's pain I think it is acceptable to task you with fetching him a bed, don't you agree?"

Sigyn did, obviously, for she just nodded, put the game away and went to fulfill the order.

Anthony was a whole other story. A quiet gasp had escaped his lips, and he was now looking up at Loki as if he suspected he was dreaming - though Loki hadn't missed the minute flinch when he had pinched himself in his arm's flesh.

Slowly he entangled himself from the other, stood up and then bade him to follow with an inclination of his head. Sigyn would need some minutes, and Anthony had probably not eaten since lunch - it was not even six in the afternoon, but he had already proven to be hungry at all times, and he suspected that he was exhausted as well - the way he held himself spoke volumes, even without knowing the way Sigyn herself went through a day.

So he took his mortal down into the kitchen where Jean was preparing something for dinner - peppers, potatoes and corn.

Surprise lit up his face when they came in, but he was used to Loki's sometimes unusual behavior and said nothing when he took Mary's cushion to throw it at Anthony's place, just lifted an eyebrow and asked: "Are you okay?"

Anthony needed a moment to realize that it was him Jean was speaking to, and even then he spoke quietly from the place where he had sunk down without another prompt: "I am, yes. Thank you."

Jean smiled while Loki wanted to break someone’s jaw and instead settled for pulling some bread out and cutting it in slices, not even caring that he showed off knife-skills a normal business-man wouldn't have. He wanted to hurt someone, really badly, but if he couldn't have that he could at least soothe his want to keep Anthony safe, and that meant, at the moment, feeding him.

"Sigyn is sometimes a bit rough.", Jean said at the moment, cutting some more peppers and letting Loki steal some to put them on the plate to the butter-an-ham bread and a peeled egg (after some of Loki's magical practice sessions that always ended in him being hungry enough to eat a whole cow and plundering the fridge at half past midnight he had adopted the habit to keep some hard-cooked eggs and other non-perishables like this around). "You have to tell her when she is going to far with us delicate hu" Jean stopped himself with a sheepish expression, but not before Anthony caught up on what he had let slip.

"Delicate humans?", he said with a spark of humor, that dissolved into gratefulness when Loki put the dish down in front of him, pinning him with a stern look that dared him to not eat it all.

Jean looked up a bit startled - he wasn't used to Loki telling that around. "Yes.", he said. "Us delicate humans." He stole a glance to Loki, saw that he wasn't amused but neither angry, and added: "Really, tell them both when they are going to far - they normally don't even know it. Remind me to tell you of the first time Louis went to a tailor, yes?"

Anthony looked up at him as well, not daring to answer, but Loki let himself chuckle a bit. It was a bit embarrassing, in hindsight, but he had himself believed to be completely in the right. In his defense he could only say that he really hadn't needed a bespoken midgardian suit before.

The man didn't need much time to finish, but at least didn't eat so fast that he would make himself ill so Loki let him sate his hunger, was even prepared to give him more if he looked as if it had not been enough, but when the dish was cleared he only looked dazed.

As Loki had suspected - Sigyn had run through the day, and in his excitement the human had forgotten his body's weakness.

"Come.", he said to him, putting the porcelain into the sink. Anthony obediently got up, then put the cushion back and followed him when he left the kitchen with a nod and a last word to Jean, up the stairs and into Loki's rooms.

As anticipated Sigyn had realized his wishes to the last, though after so many shared years that wasn't really a surprise anymore.

Where there had been a rug before now lay a mattress, covered by sheets, with a pillow and a blanket. Both was simple red cotton bed-linen, the same type Sigyn herself preferred, instead of the satin kind Loki always used, and he had to compliment her: while satin might be kinder to the pains cotton would make him less anxious to not dirty them.

She had also remembered to turn the heater down - in his aesir shape he had no problem with the warmth in the house, and while Tony had been naked this had been necessary. Now, with a blanket, Loki could keep the bedroom cooler which was by far his preference, while on the other hand not scare Anthony off with the fear he would be used as a bed slave.

"Sigyn let you have a shower?", he asked. It would be what an aesir warrior did after sparring to clear the wound they almost certainly got - even with their better healing they could catch an infection - and he had little doubt she would have done so. Still, it was better to make sure, and it would also give Anthony the feeling he cared.

As he had expected the man nodded. His eyes were still glued to the makeshift bed, and when Loki gave him the okay he nearly dived into the mattress, pulling the blanket over his body and burrowed the face into the pillow as he had done earlier with Loki's chest.

He felt an unreasonably envy for the pillow but crushed it immediately, making sure the man understood: "You are here to sleep. You won't get up till the morning unless you need to use the toilet, and under no circumstances will you leave the room."

Anthony nodded, still with that dreamy look, and wrapped his fingers into the blanket.

The man looked as if he would like nothing better than to never ever let the blanket go again. Fine by Loki, as long as it kept him in bed while Loki and Sigyn had a talk about the proper treatment of his humans.


	22. Dark Night, Bright Morning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Having a panic attack has consequences - bad ones ... and good ones

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for the delay. Was run over by RL, and then got some bad news that left me without inspiration or even the will to upload the already written 22nd chapter.
> 
> On another note - the amazing [backbone89](http://http://archiveofourown.org/users/backbone89/pseuds/backbone/) was willing to endure being beta to this work and she really made this chapter better than it would have been without her help (and she was even brave enough to try out the greek yoghurt). Thank you.

Darkness. 

Darkness everywhere, surrounding him. Darkness and the distant, oh so distant, light of far away stars, swirling violet space dust ... stars being born and dying, his only companions in this nothingness. The only witnesses of the terror right in front of him - light glinting off metal, shapes of almost organic nature, giant whales only seen as dark blots of missing light, other specks of deeper darkness indicating where the smaller boats were floating, waiting to be unleashed on an unsuspecting world.

Again he felt himself panicking - felt his heart rate increase, his breathing becoming shallower and faster, cold sweat breaking out over his whole body. Nothing echoed in his suit-covered - _suit-covered? Where was the suit? Was there even a suit around him?_ \- ears but the sound of his own breath.

Time seemed to be frozen for a moment that stretched into eternity, suspended by the void.

There was an explosion - how could there be an explosion? _There was no air around him_ \- and he felt the shock wave reach him, felt it soar hot and fiery over his body, felt fresh sweat break out over his battle-marred skin ... only the bruises weren't from battle anymore, and the darkness wasn't the darkness of space but rather a dark _dark_ cave, there were men around him ... holding him down, digging fingers in his hips.

He knew what would happen, tried to struggle but only got a slap - no, not a _slap_ , a full out _blow_ \- for it, felt his head roll with it while something nudged at his entrance, then entered him dry and unprepared. Only, he suddenly knew that he wasn't dry - there was cum running over his backside already, smoothing the pain he felt from the penetration. Still, he cried out, but then there was a hand in his hair, roughly gripping him and turning him around again and then there was a dick shoved between his lips. He cried again, muffled, and had to fight the urge to bite down, knew it would only make it worse. Suffocation brought tears to his eyes, or maybe it was the rough, painful way he was taken from behind, or the way the dick now began to fuck his mouth.

He could hear the men doing it, their grunts and swearing and cheering, could smell them - sand and heat and expensive cologne ... the musk of their arousal thick in the air, could taste the precum of the man's dick in his mouth. He couldn't see them clearly however - just blurry, faceless shapes that made him fear them even more.

Helplessness made him compliant in the end - he couldn't do anything, not really, only take it - and while there had been a time when he would have continued fighting no matter what ... he wasn't that same man anymore, could feel the exhaustion in his body, in his mind ... he wanted to just give up, stop breathing the stink of the men in, stop swallowing their cum when they used his mouth ...

A hard slap brought him up again, gasping for air, and suddenly there were no men using him, no cave, no darkness. He was somewhere else, somewhere in a house - _housepet_ whispered a voice in the back of his mind and he could not tell if it was accusing or relieved - with a man kneeling beside him, a light illuminating his body ...

"Louis.", he gasped, remembering ... _pet, cared for, warm meals, petting, showers, walking and reading ..._

"Ssh.", the other made, pulling him in against his frame. It should have been ridiculous - Louis was tall, but so lanky that he shouldn't have been comfortable to lay on - and yet, when Tony buried his face against the man's shoulder, he felt better. Mostly instinctively he grabbed for the man's clothes, pulled him in even more, and Louis responded by putting his arms around Tony's body and resting his chin on Tony's head.

Louis’s scent - cool, soothing but a bit spicy - surrounded Tony, chased away the lingering memories of expensive colognes and aroused musk, while the soft murmuring near his ear, even with the words spoken mostly in a strange language, helped soothe him.

Every now and then he would understand a sentence - "You are safe here", or "I'll kill everybody that dares to lay a hand on you", but mostly it was just a background murmur, anchoring him in the here and now, and his name, repeated softly and caringly.

When Tony came back to himself he felt embarrassment flush his face. He ... damn it, he was too old to snuggle this way, to need comfort this way like a child because it was woken by a nightmare.

He tried to pull away, but the arms around him just tightened. Nervous, he tensed up - had Louis been aroused by his clear distress, the way some of his former master were? Did he want to ... to _use_ him? (He couldn't bring himself to use the word, not now, not about himself.)

"Ssh ...", Louis murmured again. "Relax, little one. You're safe here." A hand began to rub his back in soothing circles, and almost against his will Tony felt himself give in.

Choking on a half-sob he again settled against the other's chest, trying to forget what had happened to him; trying to forget himself under the gentle caring hands of his master.

 

?Â¿

 

Sleep must have claimed him after all, for the next time he woke up it was morning and beams of sunlight shimmered through the windows - eight o'clock, he guessed from the brightness, maybe nine if it was cloudy. He was still lying on his mattress - a _mattress_. It was ... he still couldn't believe it. He hadn't been lying on something so soft even for weeks before his kidnapping, and sleeping ... he didn't remember the last time he slept in a bed even before, only falling asleep on his workbench or on the cot in the lab, ready to get up and work again as he woke. That Pepper wasn't able to bear this anymore hadn't been unexpected, though it had still been rough.

He had tried, had really tried for Pepper, but he couldn't stop his mind, and being denied release for his ideas for too long almost hurt.

Louis was nowhere in sight when he tried to get up, and that was probably for the best. He felt all his joints creek, and his body screamed at him for being such an idiot, so he sank back down with a surprised groan.

Right, the mattress was something of a prize for attending a spontaneous sparring duel with Sigyn. No wonder he was feeling like hell, even though the nightmare probably had something to do with it too.

Slowly he tried to stand up again, and this time it went better - he still hissed and groaned at the pain, but at least he managed to stand. Trying to decide what he should do now, he looked around, then flinched back when he heard the door close. 

"You’re up already - that's good." Louis voice sounded soft, as if he was trying to approach an easily frightened animal.

After what had happened last night - after he had clung to him, frightened from a mere nightmare - Tony couldn't really blame him. He would have treated himself with kid gloves too, though he wasn't sure he really needed them.

Fuck, he had had worse beatings from his would-be owners, and none of them had even bothered to patch him back up. Louis on the other hand had not only called a doctor for him, but he actually seemed to feel ... no, not guilty - the guy had had nothing to do with it, and he knew it. He seemed to be angry, though neither with Tony nor with Sigyn. 

But, who else could have drawn his anger was beyond Tony.

Still, the feeling of care he got from this treatment - from the way there was now a hand at his cheek, pulling a bit to tell him he was supposed to turn around, to Louis's eyes carefully searching his face - ignited a warm feeling in his gut that he had missed for so long.

That didn't mean his cheeks weren't lighting up like a traffic light when he was facing Louis, the fingers now under his chin indicating to tip his head up and meet Louis’s eyes.

Which he would rather avoid, thank you. He had embarrassed himself enough in front of this guy.

"It's okay, Anthony.", Louis said, and the sound of his name spoken by that voice was like a warm stroke down his back. "There is nothing to be embarrassed about."

And he really, _really_ wanted to run out of this room, right now. If not for the worry of what Louis would do, he would already have been somewhere, _anywhere_ else, hiding in a hole if he had to.

Luckily Louis seemed to have something else on his mind than continuing this line of conversation.

"You missed breakfast," he said. "And I don't think your dinner was enough to help you go through to lunch." Right on cue his stomach growled, and he felt the receding blood flood his cheeks again.

Louis laughed softly. "Exactly,” he said. "So, I think you should get your breakfast now, and afterwards Lee should be here and can check you over."

He didn't ask for Tony's opinion on that matter - not that Tony had expected it - but rather took a step to the door, indicating that they would do this _now_.

And Tony wasn't against it. Now that he remembered being human his stomach growled and hurt, almost worse than when he hadn't eaten for a day or two since he was getting used to the idea of regular meals again.

Jean wasn't anywhere to be seen, but as it had been the evening before Louis indicated for him to go down on the floor and made him his meal himself - toast with a boiled egg, a bowl filled with a salad and an apple - not what he was used to, or what he had eaten as Tony Stark, but then he had mostly had booze and cold pizza in the morning - when he could be bothered to wake up before noon.

Okay, so that wasn't entirely correct - with Pepper he had had something of a normal life, but large parts of it had been overshadowed by his nightmares and Killian, and breakfast hadn't meant this much to both of them (actually, it was one of the few things he was probably healthier in than her. For Pepper, a good breakfast was an espresso without sugar or cream, and she wouldn’t eat anything else until lunch. He at least had something more substantial to be flushed down by the booze, or the coffee, even if it was the rest of what they had eaten the day before. If he bothered being up, that is.

Still, sitting here beside Louis - who did sit down on his chair after fixing tea for both of them - did remind him a bit of the morning after team-bonding, when either Steve or Bruce actually thought he should get something non-alcoholic in his system and hauled him out of his hole of choice. All of those who had stayed in his tower overnight would be sitting around the table in the common room, and while Tony was bad with eating himself, he liked sharing a meal with his team mates, would even eat more (and healthier thanks to Bruce and his fruit-tic) than normal.

Now it wasn't the Avengers he was sitting with, but a man that was more something of a villain in the story - and still, he felt safe, warm, and cared for, and if he was a dog he would probably have thrown himself to the ground and asked for his belly to be scratched. 

_Get a grip on yourself, Tony!_ , he thought. _Louis may not have treated you badly but he is treating you like a pet, like you can't decide anything for yourself!_

_And what would I do now, were I to be free of Louis right this moment?_

_I would be sitting in my workshop, unable to even think about creating anything because all my dreams now are about violence and abuse, and I would drink and drink until I ended up in hospital._

Admitting that maybe, just maybe, being here with Louis wasn't worse than being free - at least he couldn't deny Louis the right to distract him, as he would have his friends or AIs - was hard, really hard. The man had taken Tony without regard for what Tony was - and still, he was treating him better than Tony himself would.

"Would you like something else? Pudding?", he asked now and Tony realized that he had eaten everything the man had given him while he had thought about his life.

But he really wasn't the kind of person for pudding - recovering from wounds he had to often been confronted with it, and he hated being reminded of such weakness. "No.", he said ... then, gingerly: "Do you ... can I ...?" He swallowed, suddenly fearing he had gone to far.

Louis looked down at him, his face showing no trace of anger. "Yes?" he asked when Tony didn't continue.

Ducking a bit in fear that he had gone too far, even if nothing in Louis' behavior indicated that, he asked: "I ... I would like some greek yogurt, if you have."

And Louis ... smiled. Proud. As if Tony had done something else then asking selfishly for what he wanted. _As if he had done something to be proud of_. "Of course," he said, then, rummaging in the fridge: "Pure or with jam?"

Tony could only stare for a moment - was it really that easy, that .. _normal_ , to ask for what he wanted? "Pure." he said, then decided to test his theory and continued: "I would like ... I would like some raisins with it."

"Dry grapes?" Louis sounded disgusted and Tony was halfway through berating himself for his forwardness when the man continued: "I am really grateful that we don't all have the same tastes."

And then Tony got a bowl full of his dessert, with a handful of raisins on top and a spoon.

If not for his surprise, and Louis watching him, he would have wept - relief, yes, but mostly the realization that Louis really, really wasn't as bad as he had thought.


	23. Doctor's visit - Loki

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ähm ... Sorry?
> 
> Could I possibly bribe you? My offer: Seven chapters, written and edited and going online in the course of this week?
> 
>  
> 
> Just a note to this chapter: It was a bitch to write. I tried two different versions of it, then decided that it didn't work with Loki. So I cut it in two parts. This here is the Loki-part of it. And a bit more about Dr. Lee himself. Enjoy.

When he had first met Lee the man had been a gang-doctor - someone they took their wounded to, and expected him to treat them without running to the police and in exchange for nothing but refraining from beating up his family and himself for not paying the debts he was up to his ears in. Debts he had had only because the gang had been there to lend money when his brother needed it for his daughter's - Lee's niece - treatment when no bank was ready to do so. The debt had then been transferred to Lee after his brother took the easy way out and hung himself when he found out about the strings attached to his deal.

Loki had been there for something else entirely - a deal with the gang boss, or, to be more accurate: he had been there to make sure whether his information about one of his wanna-be clients (a CEO of a food company that didn't exist anymore) that he was using drugs and was maybe even a bit to much into child porn was correct (it had been, hence his not taking that client and hence the out-of-business-ness of the company).

When he had been taken to the man - by some enforcers which had been  _really_ nervous to have to have escort  _Loki_ , the man who murdered some hundred humans in cold blood (it had been closer to some thousand, over the centuries, not to mention all the non-humans he had killed; but then no human had ever thought to ask after the number of people killed by  _Thor_ , which far exceeded his) and now leisurely walked through their boss' house - he had seen him through the gap of a door, caring for a patient. He wouldn't have thought anything of it if not for the look in the man's eyes when he looked up at the sound of harsh steps on the corridor - a look of clear disgust at these men, and the way they wasted lives.

He hadn't been able to fully get the man out of his head, even during the talk with the gang boss - who wasn't that bright a man, which made him unable to distract Loki, and if not for the fact that he was at least intelligent enough to not provoke his guest he wouldn't have lived through their encounter - and then on his way out he had seen the man again. A man whose eyes betrayed his caring nature, and who was running with the wolves, only alive through the spark - the intelligence, the fire - in his eyes.

It was a spur-of-the-moment decision to ask for the man's debt, and to have it cleared with the money he kept on a separate account. The gang boss hadn't dared to object, was probably even surprised to get his money, but the man himself had actually dared to look into his eyes and to tell him that he wouldn't murder for him.

The last time he had been this intrigued by a mortal said mortal had dared to offer him a drink while being mostly defenseless, and he had thrown him out of a window for his impertinence.

This time he just laughed and took the mortal with him, told him a made-up story about a debt he himself owed and that he was to serve a certain business-man, to pay back both his own and Loki's debt.

If looks could kill then the man - Morgan Lee, as he had known by then - would have succeeded in what a lot of people had failed, and he had been half convinced the man wouldn't be seen again. But he had turned up, right the next morning, to tell Louis de St.Marin what he thought of his dealings with super-villains.

Loki had been almost unable to hold onto himself - he was, even in his disguise, a mighty man, and Sigyn standing behind him wasn't exactly decor, and here was this man he could squash under his foot and he dared to threaten him.

It had taken some time to convince Lee of Louis' good intentions - and as far as this man, and his family, was concerned, Loki's intentions  _were_ good - but after some rules had been established he got a doctor who knew how to keep his mouth shut and the doctor returned home with the capital to start his own practice (and Loki had been much more reasonable with his interest than the gang). 

Now this intriguing man was pacing through his sitting room - he would have preferred to stay downstairs, no doubt, but that was not his call to make and Loki really wanted to have Anthony in a place where he had already been and felt a bit safe at least. When he led Anthony in Lee looked up like a startled hawk - sudden and sharp - then his eyes settled on the man he had only seen unconscious three days ago.

It seemed he wasn't exactly displeased with what he saw - Anthony being neither shackled nor overly humiliated, though naked and collared -, but neither was he pleased, as the worried line on his forehead and the sound he made upon seeing Anthony's chest with it’s red and swollen scars and scratches suggested.

Then he actually looked up, into Anthony's eyes, said "Mr. Stark" and all of a sudden Loki had an whole other problem.

He had used the given name of his pet for a reason, and he wasn't sure if he should insist that Lee used it, too, or let him use the title Anthony was more used to but had probably bad associations with.

Before he could come to a conclusion Anthony actually  _relaxed_ a bit beside him, and Loki became aware of yet another problem the man had faced - he hadn't seen anyone other than the four of them, and while he had become used to being Louis' naked pet among them, he had now been introduced to a stranger. Lee going all formal was probably the best that could have happened.

"If you would sit down, please?", Lee continued with a short wave to a seat and Anthony hesitated until Loki figured out that he wasn't sure if he was allowed to sit on the chair.

He wasn't, actually - Loki  _loved_ seeing him on his knees, even more so when he was kneeling at  _Loki's_ feet - but he also knew that he should allow it this time to prevent Lee complaining about not being able to properly look at his patient, which would make it even harder to go through the frown-announced tongue-lashing he was already in for keeping Anthony as a pet.

At least Lee kept from doing it right away and just turned to his patient who had taken Loki's nod as allowance to gingerly sit down on one of the richly decorated chairs. Lee's body language made it more than clear that he would have preferred it had Loki left the room, but he wasn't inclined to leave Anthony alone with a - however well-meaning - stranger. The man had had enough he had to cope with in the last days, and even though he didn't think that Lee would do anything that could tear the tentative trust Anthony had displayed toward Loki the man himself had no way to know this.

So he remained in the room, but sat down on the couch so he wasn't looming over them both - puny, tiny humans - or getting in the doctor’s way

Who, meanwhile, had busied himself with carefully looking over the scratches on Anthony's skin, touching only as much as he needed to. And, as Loki pleased detected, only after getting the man's consent to do so.

"You've taken the antibiotic I've prescribed?", he asked at one point and Anthony nodded slowly.

"Yes. Not today, but ..."

Lee threw a burning glance Loki's way and he just raised his eyebrows. "Anthony wasn't awake until half an hour ago, and I wanted you to look him over as fast as possible", he explained, pretending not to care. "Also, he was having greek yoghurt for breakfast, and from what I know of antibiotics you shouldn’t take them with milk." At least that was what Mary had put forward when Jean tried to make her eat the Vanilla Noodles he had tried out last year when she had caught a cold.

The doctor snorted, his glance suggesting Anthony not taking his prescribed medicine was going to be discussed, too, before he turned back to his patient. "I am unsure as to how far the damage in your chest is, Mr. Stark", he stated. "Can you tell me about it, please?"

Loki felt his interest be piqued - he had wondered about this, too. Who wouldn't since he had known from Barton that there was to be an ARK-rector embedded in the man's chest, and had seen the glow of it himself during the failed invasion. Around two years after - while he was still in prison - shortly after an encounter of Iron Man with a villain known as the Mandarin he went into a hospital. There wasn't anything known about the  _why_ , but his investigations had told Loki that after this brief stint the appearances of Iron Man had drastically decreased - so much that for a few months after it there hadn't been the least trace of the suit in the sky.

And now, naked, there was no ARK-reactor in the man's chest, just a thick bundle of scars - some obviously from the attack that had made the reactor needed in the first place, and some others, that probably resulted from the removal of it.

Loki still didn't know what that had done to the mortal's chest. He had - curiosity be damned - studied some charts about the organs of humans - they weren't that different from aesir (not that he had thought that; there was an ongoing bet between Amora and him that the aesir had a hand in the creation of humankind, for how else could they be this close to each other that there were children born from an union, even with magic involved?). His studies had made it clear to him that there must have been done a lot of damage to the man's body.

Knowing about the vulnerability that gave the man he wasn't at all surprised to see Anthony hesitate. He wouldn't have wanted to have his weaknesses discussed in public as well.

"Anthony", he said, his voice soft and kind. "Lee won't tell about you" The man had told him about an oath of secrecy a healer in Midgard had to swear, so he was pretty sure of that. "And neither will I. We only want to help you." There was a bit of magic underlining his words. Not that he wouldn't be able to talk cycles around the man, but it would exhaust Anthony and he wouldn't trust him anymore if he felt like his trust had been exploited. Much better to let him think that the decision to talk had been his own.

"I ... there were shrapnel shards near my heart", he explained slowly, his voice low and hesitant. "I had them removed some ... three? Yes, three years ago. But ... the initial solution was the ARK-reactor in my chest - no, not really. The initial solution was ... a car battery. The ARK-reactor was a lot better." He tried to make his voice light, and yes, there was pride in the last words, but Loki could hear the strain in it, and from his expression so could Lee.

"When they removed the shards ... the case of the reactor, it took up a lot of space. The doctors had to recreate some ribs, part of the lung, heart ... there is a new ...  _healing_ method I helped to ... to make  _safe_ , but ...it's not able to work miracles. Not in the safe form, at least." Biting on his lips he stilled, obviously unsure if he should tell more.

Lee picked his words up smoothly. "How's the density of your ribs?", he asked. "Do I have to check for cracks?"

Anthony released a short laugh that seemed almost involuntarily, yet still honest. "You really should check even if I had no problems with them - Sigyn is something of a force of nature."

He didn't exactly answer the doctor's question, which was probably answer enough, but what he said - the words about Sigyn - made Loki aware that the two of them really had become something like friends in the course of only one day. Oh yes, the joys of a shared hobby!

Lee nodded, then continued: "The organs? How much stress do they withstand?"

And Anthony just shrugged his shoulders. "I'm not sure. I picked up workout after the ... the incident, and it helped to strengthen the heart- and lung-muscles. I'm actually not sure if it got better or worse or didn't change - I .... I don't ..."

"You had no doctor look after you.", Lee said, his voice saying he wasn't guessing even if his face gave him away.

Anthony couldn't see it, not with his downcast eyes. "I ... I don't trust them.", he said, slowly, then, with a bitter laugh: "Not that they could help me. The man who helped me install it ... he was better than most of them by far. And I don't need"

Anthony bit on his tongue but Loki could hear it nonetheless  _\- I don't need their pity._

And he didn't, not really, not for that. The man had had fate throw a lemon on him, and he made a lemonade, a hero from it. A whole new person, an  _idol_ . Not someone that should be pitied.

"A complete check-up, then", Lee said, then sighed and looked up to Loki. "I don't suppose you would let me take him to my office?"

Loki only raised an eyebrow at that and with another sigh Lee gave in. "Okay, I'll see what I can do here." A pointed look to Loki. "You have nothing else to do?"

Loki hesitated. He really didn't want to leave Anthony alone but the look the man gave him - the calmness with which he accepted Lee, the slow trust, the ...  _need_ ? Was that need to get away from him? - made his resolve crumble. 

"Anthony", he said, waiting for the man's acknowledging nod before continuing. "Are you okay with me leaving you here with Lee?" Because he wanted Anthony to know that he wasn't left behind, that he  _did_ care for him ( _Almighty chaos!_ Why did he care?  _Why did he want the man to know he cared?_ )

"I'm ... yes. Yes, it's okay." His voice said he didn't know why Loki was asking, but there was a small, almost invisible spark in Anthony's eyes that told the god that his pet did appreciate that his opinion was being asked for.

He smiled. "Good", he said. Then, to Lee: "I'm in my office. When you're through with him, bring him up to me."

It was more of an order but Lee still nodded as if his opinion was relevant (and Loki remembered a younger Thor saying to a younger Loki how he seemed to prefer the rebels. Though that had been about the horses they had ridden then ...).

Smiling a bit at the memory - it was a good one; well before Loki knew of his origins and even before Thor developed his superior complex - he tilted his head in acknowledgment, then turned and left the room. If he couldn't stay with his pet, he could as well take care of some other things.

It would take Lee at least half an hour to check Anthony over thoroughly, not counting the talk that would happen between the two men once Tony thawed enough. Enough time in Loki's estimation to set a certain gang boss that still owed him a favor on the Mistress.

Loki grinned wickedly.

It were the heroes that the masses cheered on. But most times, life as a villain was better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a short note at the end, because several of you asked about me having abandoned this story: I don't have any intention of doing so, but in the unlikely case that I do I will leave you a note - I hate stories that are abandoned without notice and then, several months later, you delete them from your subscriptions-list, never knowing if there won't be an update just the next day. So, as long as you don't read anything from me (and I don't forget my password ;) )there will be more chapters.


	24. Doctor's visit - Tony

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> and now what's happening after Loki left ...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as I promised - the next chapter.
> 
> also - there are no spoilers for Captain America-Winter Soldier in here, even if it seems like that. I just took the characters and assumed what's going to happen next with them ...

Tony remembered a day when he was a small child - four, five, not much older at least - and his parents were leaving him alone for a party. That wasn't really anything special, had even happened before - even at this age he had already known that his father worked hard most of the time to ensure that they could live like they did and Tony could get all the toys he wanted, and his mother had a lot of important things to do, and that he shouldn't be so greedy to expect them to always be there; his nurses had made certain he understood that - but it was that particular day that he felt ... that he  _needed_ them. He had woken up from a nightmare, he had a new nurse that he couldn't particularly stand, his last meal had been too salty and he had hurt himself running around the house and he was having his birthday party the other week but there was no kid he knew enough to invite it so there was only the usual pack of strangers invited and - and he just  _needed_ his parents  _right now_ .

Throwing a tantrum never helped, but there was no other way for him to express himself - he was to young for true arguments, and unable to really embarrass his parents as he later did with drinking and cars and lovers - so he refused to put his pajama on and threw his pillows and blanket down when his mother tried to put him into bed anyway, hoping beyond hope that they might stay with him.

His father had called from the other floor: "We have to go. Where are you?" Impatient, uncaring. Tony had never heard him call his mother by her name or even 'Mummy' as he heard Rhodey's father do when he was home from the field - later, when he had met Rhodey in high school.

"Your son is being difficult again." Always, always ' _your_ son'. He was only ever ' _my_ son', or ' _our_ son' when there was a reporter listening.

Howard Stark suddenly stood in the door frame of his room - a room full of everything a child dreamed of and nothing it needed - and declared, his voice uncaring: "If he doesn't want to be put in bed, shall he go himself. We have to go, or we will be too late for the auction."

Maria nodded, then breathed a kiss on the forehead of her child as she would have done to barely known acquaintance and left the room with a last "We'll be back late in the night. Don't be to loud when you go up in the morning" thrown over her shoulder.

Tony stood there, the door closing behind the only  _real_ persons, the only  _anchor_ he had in this world, and for the first time he felt really, absolutely horribly abandoned. It must have happened before, but never in this way - never with Tony fully conscious of what happened to him. There was coldness like a stone sitting in his belly, coldness running down his suddenly oh so heavy limbs, and he felt so small, so ... so  _overwhelmed_ , and everything around him was so big, and threatening, and dark, and he couldn't get enough breath anymore ...

His nurse had found him in the corner of his wardrobe the other morning, his small bed light still burning, huddled in on himself, too afraid to have closed his eyes for more than a few minutes. He had been clutching his bear - a present from a grandmother that died when he was barely two and that he didn't even remember - and was curled in on himself, barely covered by the shirts and trousers he had pulled down from their racks. She had scolded him, thinking he had had a bad mood, and never even let him explain (not that he would have; nurses always,  _always_ were on the other side).

He had never told anyone about it, never confronted his parents or even consciously thought of this night for several decades now. But sitting here, in this strange house, naked, a collar around his neck like a dog, in pain from an accident again, seeing Louis walk out of this room and leaving him with a stranger, he ... remembered.

And he couldn't help notice the similarities - he again was naked, was scared, was cold and injured - but also the differences - Louis had asked him if he was okay with him leaving, had looked out after him, only left him with a stranger he trusted. The sun streamed in here, and even though he might feel fear it was not of being abandoned. No, if he knew one thing, then that Louis wouldn't abandon him. He wanted him, and his possessiveness came over clear and strong.

The thought made him dizzy. When had Louis become such a pillar of his world? He had been here barely three days, and one of them the other hadn't even spent in the house.

"Are you  alright , Mr. Stark?"

Startled Tony looked up in the face of the man left with him.

Dr. Lee.

Another one of those Louis called  _his_ .

A man of perfect politeness, steady hands, enough empathy to not point out that Tony had flinched even after telling him it was okay when he touched him, knowledge to rival Tony's first-class doctor and unquestionable loyalty to Louis.

Looking at the man Tony remembered that he had been asked a question and belatedly he answered: "Yes. Yes, I am."

The man just continued to look at him, then said: "As much as it pains me, I can not free you, Mr. Stark. I do owe Mr. St.Marin a debt I'll never be able to repay, and he knows it. But I will not sit by and silently watch as he abuses you. So please, tell me how you got these injuries."

Tony stared at him, uncomprehending, for a long long moment. "You ... oh. Oh. No, he didn't - I mean, yes, he, also ...." He took a deep breath, then began again. "It really was an accident. It ... I was panicking. She - Sigyn, I mean - she asked me to do something, and ... it's not important. She tried to stop when she noticed how I reacted, but I - I was already too gone. She just wanted to keep me from hurting myself." He drew his fingers through his hair, said, his face instinctively drawn into the self humoring smile he so often wore for the press: "I'm sounding like a complete mess, aren't I?"

The look the man gave him wasn't exactly what he had anticipated - not smiling and agreeing, or being annoyed -, nor was it the answer: "No, Mr. Stark. You sound like an abuse survivor."

The breath caught in Tony's lungs. He had known it - of course he had known it - but ... he had never thought of it this clearly. Had never heard it spelled out in so many words. Had never ... "I don't need your pity", he growled, swallowing the knot in his throat. "I've had worse done to me."

"I'm sure of that." The man never missed a beat. "I'm also sure that you have had friends by your side to help you come to terms with your ... experiences. I also know that sometimes actions that objectively seem less bad can be much worse for a certain person." His tone as well as his mimic softened. "I'm no psychiatrist, nor am I expecting your trust. I won't ask what happened to you, Mr. Stark. But just because I won't speak about it does not mean it has not happened."

The voice fell silent, and Tony had to fist his hands, to press his well rounded nails in his flesh to keep the memories the words had stirred up at bay.  _Hands fisted in his hair, feet in his ribs, a choking sound escaping his throat when - no, no, it wasn't happening now! He was safe here, he was with Louis and Louis would ... never ... he wouldn't, would he?_

Taking a deep breath Tony tried to chase it all away. His memories, his fears, even the unwanted trust in the man that was his  _owner_ . He couldn't cope with it now. Maybe later, or tomorrow, or just ... later.

"I'm not exactly a survivor", he said instead of all the other things he wanted to say -  _please get me out, please have mercy, please, please, please._ "I'm still owned."

Lee winced - he was obviously torn about that, too; nothing unusual seeing as he was a doctor - but said, lowly: "I ... I admit I'm still doubting, but I have never seen him harm anything he claimed for himself, and what you told me gives me reason to believe he won't do anything to you, even though I admit this is not much to reassure you."

Maybe ... Tony wasn't sure. At least it explained Louis' action last night - and he still, really, couldn't quite believe it. Had Louis really helped him cope with his nightmares this night?

"I think ... I think you said something about examining me?", he asked - and really, everyone who knew him would know something was  _really_ wrong when Tony Stark rather faced a doctor than a question.

But Lee didn't know him - didn't know  _this_ about him - and even though he most likely could see through the deflection he would not know how bad it was, and his manners would most likely make him change the topic ...

"Of course, Mr. Stark", he agreed. Stepping closer he explained: "I'll examine you to find out if any of your bones are broken. That may hurt, or get too invasive. Don't hesitate to tell me when you need me to stop." He stopped, waiting for Tony’s agreement.

Tony nodded, slightly distracted by the thought that he  _actually trusted_ the man to stop when Tony asked him to. He didn't even trust his own doctor this far - if not for Pepper an d Bruce both insisting that he sometimes needed someone really trained in this to look him over he wouldn't even have had one. Not to mention the SHIELD-medics that much too often  got their claws on him.

Really, he trusted Lee ... not as much as Bruce, or ... Yinsen, but ... he trusted him because he trusted Louis who had left him with the man - what an awful idea, and yet ...

The hands on him were a shock nonetheless. They were warm, almost hot, with callouses doctors normally didn't have, and strong - something he could feel even though they were just gently probing over his flesh.

Lee had begun at his arms, probably to accustom him to the feeling, for he was very sure there was nothing wrong with his arms. But he let him, thankful for the respite. He could endure a lot - he had endured a lot - but this slow build-up actually made it better. The fingers stroked over his upper arm, then his shoulder. When he flinched at the touch over his collarbone - there was a very big bruise there - they returned, slowly sank in again and pressed as gentle as possible, but with more force to ensure there was nothing wrong with the bone itself.

Tony exhaled slowly - this wasn't as bad as he had expected it. Lee's touch was invasive, yes, but he kept it clinical and there was neither something sexual nor sadistic in it.

Lee kept going - his chest, his stomach, his ... Tony held his breath until he bypassed his groin ... his upper legs, then down. At last he straightened back up again, gently touched Tony's head and probed along his skull.

"Everything okay", he said eventually. "Seems you may thank your stars for that, Mr. Stark."

"Just a lot of abrasions?", Tony asked, and the doctor nodded.

"You still have that gel for the burn on your back?", he inquired.

Tony pulled his shoulders slightly awkward. "Louis has it." Or at least he thought so.

Lee blinked. "Why ...?" Sudden understanding made him blink. "He's the one taking care of you."

Embarrassment flooded Tony’s cheeks with blood - yes, he always behaved like a child, Pepper could tell tales of that from her PA-days, but he didn't like to have it pointed out.

Just that Lee didn't seem to think something strange about this. "He really likes you", he just said, shaking his head before continuing: "The gel has some disinfecting qualities. It will help with the abrasions as well as the burn. I will just put another gel on them now to ensure they are properly disinfected, but after that you can continue to treat them with the gel you already use."

Tony nodded. He wasn't sure how to tell Louis to give him the gel, or to have him rub it in his skin - whether he even  _wanted_ his fingers on his body - but they would probably heal without it as well. 

"Is there anything else I can do for you, Mr. Stark?", interrupted Lee's voice his thoughts.

Tony stared at him, uncomprehending, until the doctor specified: "Do you want to know about your colleagues?"

Tony stared at him, his mind momentarily shocked into silence. All this weeks,  _months_ , he hadn't thought of  _anything_ but them - had dreamed of Pepper, of science with Bruce, of parties with Rhodey. Had imagined Steve's voice giving him strength when he was absolutely down, Sam talking about flying, Phil smiling softly to remind him of real danger, Thor toasting him with a pint of mead when the withdrawal got too much, Clint cheering him up, Bucky's flint-hard stare or Natasha’s growling whenever he even just thought about ending his life. But now that he had someone who would answer his questions ... he hadn’t even  _thought_ to ask about them, or ... or about StarkIndustries. About his tower, or the city, or ... anything else from his life ...

 


	25. Doctor's orders

The way Anthony stood in the door frame told Loki more than words that something had happened that he hadn't foreseen. His pet was trembling, practically shaking - and ... it couldn't be exhaustion, could it? He hadn't been up for long, and, okay, he was still a bit roughed up from yesterday's events, but surely not this much?

"Anthony?", he asked, standing up from his seat. He should have listened in, not let himself get distracted by his little spat with Rouge.

The mortal looked up, the ghost of a smile flitting over his lips. "Everything is fine", he answered unhesitatingly, and that just wouldn't do. How could this human _dare_ lie to him?!

Two fast paces and he was in front of the man, gripping his jaw - cautiously, he didn't want to harm him - and tilting it so that he was looking in the other's wide open eyes. "Don't lie to me, Anthony", he said in a quiet, dangerous growl.

The other began to shake even more, and Loki realized how this must look to him - his master was angry, and he had to have made bad experiences with angry masters. He wouldn't know that Loki's anger was mostly concern, or that he wasn't keen to hurt him. Right now he was probably dying a hundred deaths internally, berating himself for showing a bit of spirit.

Taking a deep breath Loki gentled his grip on the other's chin even further and turned to Lee who was standing beside him with a reproving expression in his face.

"What happened?", he asked.

Lee raised an eyebrow. "Nothing", he answered, obviously uncertain what Loki meant. Or unwilling to tell ...? No, not Lee. He would have told him  immediately \- and so  _angry_ \- when he had unearthed something else that Loki had done wrong.

Rolling his eyes he explained: "When I left you Anthony wasn't looking like a breeze might shatter him." A bristle from the man - just a bit, just palpable because Loki still held his chin in a firm grip. "What happened?"

"We talked", said Lee, after a much too long pause. What had happened? What had they talked about?! "And I think  _we_ should talk, too." The last almost, almost a threat.

Loki nodded slowly, then turned to Anthony who was still staring at him with wide open, apprehensive eyes, chin still fixed in Loki's grip. "Tell me", he ordered.

The man swallowed, obviously uncomprehending, but opened his mouth - whatever he wanted to say, or thought Loki might have asked, Loki cut him off before he could say anything to elaborate: "What you aren't to forget."

Anthony stared, then slowly relaxed a bit. "You won't beat me. You wont starve me. You won't rape me." His voice was hoarse, nervous, but not disbelieving anymore.

"Good." Loki allowed a smile to curve his lips. His pet was learning.

Slowly he let Anthony go, then went back to the desk where he kept the tablets and also to get the bottle of water Mary had replaced. Turning back he saw Anthony still standing barely inside the room, the door partly - and probably unintentionally - blocked by Lee. His eyes were huge, anxious ... it didn't even take much effort for Loki to let his sudden urge to make the man go down on his knees and receive the medicine this way go. Anthony was obviously anticipating exactly that, and the thought filled his eyes with fear and bad memories - something Loki just wouldn't have. Yes, he wanted him on his knees, and the thought of having this ...  _playboy_ being used for even more intimate things made his trousers go tight, but he didn't want to have it this way. He wanted him on his knees willingly, and he would much rather let him go entirely than break his promises to this man, even if just in spirit.

And humiliating him here, before the one man that might see him as human in every sense of the word would be hurting him, something Loki was painfully aware of.

So he returned to the man awaiting him with baited breath, still obviously frightened, and gave him both the tablet and the water, not even bothering to make him open his mouth so he could slip it in as a sudden powerful sadistic urge made him want to do but putting it in the other's hand.

Anthony did as he was supposed to, swallowed the medicine down, and downed the water after it - he still, still was too afraid of being starved and going thirsty, something that wouldn't go away over night. But at least his stance had become lighter, less tense, and that Loki booked as success.

A short nod in the direction of the book shelves got his attention again. "Chose what you want, then sit down and wait for me."

There was a small hesitation, but in the end Anthony complied. He chose the same book as the last time then folded himself down beside Loki's desk where he had been sitting before, his back resting against the side of the desk, without further question.

Loki watched him for a moment, before he left the room and carefully closed the door behind him. A secretly drawn silence- charm made sure that no sound would escape from their conversation beyond the two of them, the n he relaxed against the wall, looking at Lee like a benevolent king at an overly enthusiastic subject. "What is it you want to talk about?", he asked, his voice carefully neutral. Not that he didn't know that it would be about Tony's treatment, but it would be interesting to see what Lee objected to the most.

The man kept his silence for a moment, before he asked: "That ... promise. Do you intend to keep it?"

That ... really wasn't what Loki had been expecting. "My promise?"

"Not to hurt him", Lee explained.

Loki just looked at him. "In all this years you now know me, have I ever  _not_ kept a promise?"

He didn't need to see Lee's wince - he knew that he had kept his promises. He  _always_ kept his promises. There was a reason he so rarely gave his word about something, unlike his brother who kept getting into trouble due to his much to big runaway mouth.

"You are right", Lee admitted. "I just ... he seems so vulnerable. So unlike the Tony Stark ...." Shaking his head he continued: "He survived being abducted and held captive for months by a terrorist group in Afghanistan. I ..." A snort fell from his mouth, breaking his words for a moment. "I should know better by now, shouldn't I? That the sharks of New York are no different than those in the harsher parts of the world." A bitter smile curled his lips in distaste.

Loki thought he was beginning to understand. "You have difficulty coping with the fact that what the so called civilized world's high society can do to their hero is worse than what some nameless terrorists did?"

Lee sighed. "Shaming, isn't it? Even after everything that I have experienced I still believe in humanity to be able to overcome their primal instincts."

There were some choice words about humanity's cruelty on Loki's lips, but before he could utter them the doctor suddenly looked up and asked: "Were -  _how_ ? - did you find him?" 

The question caught Loki unprepared, even though he should have known that it would be coming. Contrary to Mary and Jean which both trusted him to know best Lee had always been the one to ask endlessly, often questions that Loki tried to avoid asking himself. There was a reason he had told Mary and Jean who he was, but not the doctor.

Accordingly he answered: "There is a house in this city, home both to a big gambling playground for the darker side of the rich and famous as well as housing a slave pen."

Lee stared at him, reading far to much in that statement. "How long have you known about that?"

Shaking his head slowly Loki answered: "You know the answer already, so why ask?" But before Lee could snap at him he continued, his words cold and harsh when he remembered Anthony's flinch upon every touch, uncaring how gentle it was: "Do not worry, Dr. Lee. They won't be allowed to continue their behavior the way they did."

Goose bumps rose up on the mortal's arms and he almost instinctive seemed to be taking a step back. Loki found he had been channeling too much of the blood lust he felt inside - the blood lust of a warrior prince of Asgard whose honor had been called in question. Taking a deep breath he smiled, though by the only slightly calmed expression on Lee's face it must have been similar savage to his tone, when he explained: "They will be facing justice."

One had to hand it to Lee, he was no coward to back down when it got dangerous. "Whose justice? America's, or yours?"

Loki laughed a bit, humorless. "I would prefer mine", he acknowledged. "But I do not think it in Anthony's mind to do so." Again a deep breath - this conversation really riled him up. "What else do you want to know?" And at Lee's slightly startled look: "You can't tell me that's all you wanted to speak to me about."

The doctor went still for a moment before he slowly, reluctant, said: "When I saw him first I wanted to scream at you for keeping him naked, for collaring him, for forbidding him to sit on chairs. For keeping him as a  _pet_ ." Lee was even more attentive than he had believed, it seemed.

"What changed your mind?", Loki asked curiously.

Lee hesitated, at a loss for words to give shape to his thoughts, before he settled on: "I have seen men and women like him while I was with Rouge. They ... they had been abused so badly that even when I offered to smuggle them out, to get them a safe place with the police they would not believe me, would think it a trick to test their loyalty." He shook his head. "They were so unused to kindness ... they couldn't believe there was someone out there that really, genuinely just wanted nothing but to help them."

Loki hadn't known that. "Did you not fear that Rouge might find out?" The gang boss was dumb, but not dumb enough to not detect when someone - most of all their indebted doctor - decimated his number of employers.

"Oh, afraid enough", Lee snorted bitter. "But ... some of these kids ... you have no idea how beaten up they were. I can't - I can't sit by and watch people that are half dead leave and go back to hell and then go home and look my kids in the eye. Some of them were -  _are_ \- not even of age."

Maybe he should have killed the mobster boss anyway - torturing his own people's children? Not even Loki had ever stooped so low. But he needed him, needed his contacts. Though he might let some evidence against him slip to the police if it made Lee happy.

Apropos happy ... Loki felt his eyes narrow to slits. "What have you and Anthony been speaking about?", he asked, his voice a low, dangerous growl.

The doctor jerked back up, obviously not having expected Loki's anger. For a moment he seemed uncertain but it didn't last long before he straightened up and said: "We were talking about you, about his treatment. About his injuries." The dark grey eyes closed a bit, hiding pity. "He just realized that he had not asked for his friends, his company."

The breath stopped in Loki's chest. Had he miscalculated? Was Anthony far more gone than he had anticipated? Had his treatment of the man furthered his fall into the abyss?

But he had seemed better, more sure of himself ...

And then he realized with a sudden, warm glow of success what it meant - what it only could mean: However unconsciously Anthony had begun to accept his place in this house.

His place as Loki's pet.

 


	26. Hacker

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> don't buy APPLE - Tony Stark may hack you

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay in updating - my internet access thought this an appropriate time to let itself get passed by by snails, so updating wasn't happening.
> 
> Also, because skycross and WynterRavenheart commented on Loki's (my) use of "pet" to describe Tony in the last chapter. As I'm not sure if there is someone else distressed by that I thought to answer here:  
> Loki does not, nor will he ever think or act as if Tony is his slave. His paramount feeling for Tony is his wish to protect him and to help him to find himself again. He does respect him, both as Tony Stark AND his opponent, which is were his dilemma roots in - his aesir up-bringing does not allow for him to feel this way for an (once-)enemy. "Pet" is what he (I) came up with to reconcile his urges to coddle Tony with his view how an opponent is to be treated. He will, however, NOT treat him as equal to a dog or sex-pet or something like that. So if this wasn't outside your comfort zone until now it shouldn't be in the future.  
> I apologize for not making this clearer and hope you'll enjoy Tony's road back to himself as much as I do.
> 
> And now ... (thunder roll and everything) : Why insulting apple can be healthy for the soul. Hope you enjoy.

And to think his day had begun this good ... waking up with the lingering comfort of a warm possessive embrace, his sore skin and bones secured from the hard floor by a mattress. Then a fast but still filling and tasty breakfast - Louis asking him if he wanted something sweet and even complying to his wishes when he expressed them ...

How had it come to this, then? To him sitting here beside a desk he had come to know much too well in just one day - and had it really been the day before yesterday? Had he really been still with the Mistress only the day before, sitting in a cold dark dungeon waiting to be bought and abused and starved again (not that he had engorged himself in Her care)? - and worrying about losing himself.

For that was the only reason he could see for his lack in inquiring after his friends, his home, his company.  _The world at large_ .

He shouldn't have asked after Louis. The man was not the center of his world even though he seemed to take up so much of his thoughts nowadays, seemed to worm himself under Tony's skin and inside his mind. What was it to him what he could expect of the man? He should be thinking about escape, about getting him into jail, not sitting here and waiting like a good little pet until the man returned from his talk with the doctor!

And yet he couldn't quite find in himself the strength to get up, to try to hack the computer sitting on the desk or even just the cell phone Louis had left inside the drawer that had gone off a minute ago. He could even stand up, open the window and ...

The door opened and his eyes automatically fell down on the still unread page of the book in his lap - a reflex born from having masters angry at him for thinking he tried to escape before.

_And I didn't even try. Not now, at least._

He swallowed against the lump in his throat.

Louis ignored him, just strode in the room and around the other side of the desk from Tony, taking some things from a drawer and then pulling some files out of a lockable sideboard. When he passed Tony then ... something flooded Tony's being. It wasn't fear, or anything equally dark, but it was intense and made him want to curl in on himself.

His almost panting breaths drew Louis' attention, and for a moment there  _was_ fear - fear what Louis might do  if he thought him too noisy . But the man only smiled indulgently and reached out to card his fingers through his hair. It was how a dog might be touched, but also similar to the very few times Howard had patted his son and this thought had Tony startle enough to break the fear's hold of him, had him breathe again calm and quiet. The approving smile playing around Louis' lips should leave him cold, but instead it warmed him through from head to toes.

He was ignored after that, Louis just walking between the sideboard and desk, looking up information and sorting through papers. It was boring, really - Tony had been CEO and owner of a company for long enough to know that it didn't only look like that but really was - but it was also fascinating to watch his master working. He still had no clue as to what this man was doing for a living, though he had to be pretty rich to play in the same league as the assholes that had tried to break him before. Not to mention that he owned a house and quite a big garden - and an oldtimer collection that had  _Tony fucking Stark_ drool - and employed a cook that could easily get more than five stars if that were possible.

Tony had no idea if the man knew that he was watching him - based on the attention he had paid him in the last couple of days, not to mention the fact that he had always seemed to be aware of what Tony was doing, he probably did - but what  _decidedly_ got his attention was the small disgusted tone that escaped him -  _again_ \- when he powered the computer up and he could hear apple's start-melody.

Though that really wasn't what he had wanted - his master looking down at him, having heard his pet's condemnation of his technical choices.

"You disapprove?", he said, and Tony could only slightly relax at the warm smile he heard in the other's voice, the calm expression on his face.

Trying to get out of this situation as unhurt and fast as possible he shrugged and replied, his own voice a bit more hoarse than he was wont - before the five months at least, before his voice was used mostly for groaning and begging, destroyed by thirst and half suppressed screams - and much too reluctant than what one would expect of Tony Stark: "I just don't like competitors." And because the peace had obviously robbed him of his self preservation his tongue slipped his reins and he added: "At least with my tech I know that no five-year-old can hack into it in under five minutes. The only thing worse than Apple is _Windows_."

The normal, always-said replay hang between them for a moment, and the automatic spark of pleasure he got from insulting wanna-be competitors died, leaving him with dark dread filling his frozen limbs. Shocked by what he had just said he sat there, swallowing bitter saliva down his suddenly dry throat.

Hearing Louis chuckle raised the hairs in his neck, though the still calm face made breathing a bit easier. "You are really not impressed by another's technology, are you, Anthony?"

The warm voice had him relax some more, and he dared to hope that this was done with now.

But of course he couldn't be so lucky.

"Very well then, Anthony. Show me." The man rose from his chair, gesturing for Tony to come and sit down.

Tony stood very, very slowly - barely fast enough to not be considered refusing the order -, then asked reluctantly: "Show you what?" He couldn't mean what he thought he did, could he ...?

Louis smiled - grinned, rather. "If a small kid can hack the system within five minutes, so should you, don't you think so?" An expression flitted over his face, not cruel but -  _challenging_ ? "Show me, Anthony", he dared, his eyes glittering. "Show me what you are capable of."

And a spark of what had once made him Tony Stark, what had him speak without thought only moments ago, made him accept the challenge and take the few steps to the chair Louis was offering him. He still looked questioning up at the other and only sat down when he nodding allowed it; the seat was soft brown leather, warm, almost hot under his bare skin - he had already noticed that this form of his master, in stark contrast to his blue one, had a slightly higher than human body temperature, similar to Thor and Sigyn - and it felt strange after so many months without something to properly sit in (he didn't include the chair this morning - he had barely allowed himself to _touch_ the seat, hoping that would keep Louis from punishing him).

Even stranger was the view he now had. He looked directly at the door, but for the first time he took notice of the mirror gleaming beside it and reflecting the sunlight shining through the windows as well as the blue sky and the treetops in the garden outside. And the desk ... lying over it he had found it more bare than his own - which was strange as he never used his - but now there were documents and folders spread out on it, written in several languages as well as characters he partly didn't even recognize. Between the mess he could see a real quill - who wrote with that in this age? - as well as pencils and several rainbow colored markers. Also a small knife whose blade was much to sharp to be used as a letter opener.

"Five minutes", said Louis behind him and he looked up, ignored the rest of the mess, the phone, the unopened letters neatly stacked at one corner and focused fully on the screen before him.

It was the standard welcoming screen, asking for a password. Tony felt his lips curl in a grin; this was no challenge for him - he had done far more complicated hacking for fun. Or had Jarvis do it for him. Using a certain key-combination he set to work.

Four and a half minutes later his grin had spread so wide he felt as if his face might split in two, but he hadn't felt this good in eons. Even though he was a bit rusty - really, needing almost his full five minutes for what had normally taken up around half of the time? - he felt like himself, the same way as he had done when working with Sigyn on the cars.

It must have been his pride that made him look up from the screen - standard screen, nothing even remotely changed; Louis really was not a computer kind of guy - and look back over his shoulder at his master, his eyes gleaming with his accomplishment and joy. Had he thought about it he might have feared retribution for hacking into his master's system, or even a calculating look as if his abilities might be something to be safely exploited.

As it was he got neither. Instead there was an answering shine in Louis' eyes - joy, pride, whatever it was, it made Tony feel special and bold, brought his grin to spread even wider.

"Told you", he said.

Louis laughed, a genuine, warm laugh. "You did", he acknowledged, then his hand reached out and his fingers stroked a lock of Tony's hair back. "You are amazing", he said, but this time there was something sad in his voice, and his eyes became serious once more.

Tony felt himself become rigid in reflex, the honest joy in him dying down and fear returning cold to his stomach. "Have I ... have I done something wrong?" He hated how his voice wavered in anticipation of punishment, how his head ducked between his shoulders in it's own will.

But Louis shook his head _no_. "You have done _wonderful_ , Anthony. I just ... I just can't believe that someone should be unable to see that."

That someone should be able to hurt him. Humiliate him.

Maybe it was the atmosphere - the feeling of two comrades fighting the same fight - that made him say, his tone almost jesting: "They thought I looked wonderful when I was in pain."

The next moment he froze, his teeth clicking shut so fast he could taste the blood where he had bitten painfully on his tongue. What had he ...? His breath was coming in fast, panting gulps, his eyes were wide open, dark in fear, and cold shudders ran down his back.

And then there was Louis, looking at him surprised, but his expression became calm once more when he registered Tony's fear, and he turned the chair, closed the distance between them until he stood between Tony's legs and Tony had to look up at the giant man.

"I'm sorry ...", he whispered when Louis didn't say anything.

It made a sad little smile appear on his master's face, then he brought a finger to his chin, made him look up in his eyes. "What for, Anthony?", he asked, then, stroking his thumb along Tony's jaw: "Tell me."

And Tony ... could suddenly breathe again, could again feel his limbs, the warmth of the room while he recited what had almost become a mantra in this life: "You won't beat me. You won't rape me. You won't starve me."

Louis smiled. "Good", he praised, and a warm shower chased any lingering cold away. "I like my own having spirit", he said, and the warmth spread within Tony until he felt as warm and safe as he hadn't thought to ever feel again.

 


	27. Smiling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What it says in the title - Loki reflecting upon smiling. A smiling Anthony.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I've read a lot of stories in which the author apologizes for having been unable to write the chapter shorter. Since I still lack the understanding why that would be something to apologize for you won't find an apology here - even though the chapter is half as long again as a normal one XD

Seeing Anthony smile was akin to the sun breaking out behind the hiding clouds. And he had smiled,  _grinned_ so much in less than half an hour! First that fierce smile when he accepted the challenge Loki had set him and he turned to the screen. Then the proud smile when he accomplished his task - when he managed to hack into the system Loki was told was a lot safer than the other main operating system used in this world, in far less time than he had ever thought even Tony Stark capable of. The smile that made him look so amazing, so alive, so  _strong_ as he had almost forgot he could be. That was the Tony Stark that had so confidently grinned at him when he was in manacles, waiting to be brought back to Asgard, not the broken submissive pet that feared to even raise his head most of the time. Sweet chaos, this was the same smile he had had when he had asked him if he wanted to have a drink, even though he had only been a fragile human then, waiting for the only thing that may have made him able to withstand a god to be readied.

It had provoked the anger in him again, the thought that someone should try to curb that spark, kill this pride, demean this proud creature. Training born from centuries of living in a court that never accepted him had his face go expressionless, but the fear written in the sudden tension of Anthony's body had him realize that this maybe wasn't the best action. Tony was relaying on other’s body’s tells too much to be comfortable with that blank a read.

And then, when he asked this question - _if he had done anything wrong_ \- Loki wanted to grab him by the shoulders and shake him, tell him that he was good and beautiful and clever, and that there was no-one else in the whole universe Loki wanted to possess more. Or maybe chaining him to a soft bed, locking the door behind him and never letting him out in a world that had tried to destroy so bright a star. Biting on his tongue he couldn't help but let the truth slip, but every berating he might have started at himself was cut short by the jest his pet made - bitter, the topic cruel, but the voice much lighter than he had heard it since taking him in his house.

And when Anthony shut down in fear this time, the knowledge that he wasn't broken - if his actions were anything to go by, at least - let him knew exactly what to say, what to ask, to get him to calm down.

Still, seeing that look of quiet wonder on Anthony's face when he really, fully realized that he wouldn't be punished, that Loki would keep his word ... it made Loki's chest go wide and warm, filled him with a wonder like the one he could see in the man's eyes.

A discreet knock on his door reminded him that he had another surprise prepared for Anthony today, inspired by Lee's suggestion that Anthony should get to know more about the world.

"Come in", he invited and let the door open itself with a spark of magic.

Which was good, for Jean couldn't have opened it himself even with great effort, piled as the journals were in his arms. Even now there were some slipping his grip and if not for a quick change in posture they would have fallen on the ground.

He started forward to help the man, but a sudden movement beside him let him stop and stare while Anthony picked up the papers that had slid down. Where did this reaction come from? He would have thought him too reluctant, restrained to make his own moves.

He needn't have been confused - the only half hidden, greedy look at the front page of the topmost magazine answered this question.

Smiling he looked on as Jean grinned at the slightly smaller man. "Thanks. I really did underestimate how slippery these things are." Again he shifted to keep them better.

The little grin playing around Anthony's lips said he had caught the double meaning of the words, but he cast his eyes down, hiding his delight in the shadows.

There was so much work to do until the man found himself again. Fortunately he had nothing so much as time.

Then Jean looked at him and asked, a wide gri n on his face - he must have seen Anthony's change in attitude, too -, his eyes sparkling with mirth: "Where do you want them, boss?"

Loki felt his lips quirk in response - when Jean was pa rticularly playful he even ventured as far as to call him mockingly  _king_ or, even worse (for it meant he had really fucked up)  _god_ . Once he even got a  _my high and_ _mighty god_ . He had made sure to never ever fuck up that much again; he really detested being made fun of, and knowing he deserved it might hold his temper but not his dislike. "Down here is okay." He nodded to the place beside his desk that had become Anthony's. 

As expected his pet flinched, not sure what was going on - worst case he thought Loki would send him away from his spot, best case ... actually Loki had no idea what he thought the best case might be.

Time to let the cat out of the bag, then. "They are for Anthony. I don't think he had much opportunity to read up on what happened in the last months." And to the man, whose perplexed expression slowly began to change into a hopeful and exited one he added: "I can't have you use the internet" - for obvious reasons, as he had proved himself only minutes ago - "So I had Jean bring up the papers of the last months. They should help you get up to date."

Anthony's whole face lit up in amazement and gratitude, and it made him glad to have listened to Lee's suggestion to let Anthony in some way know what had happened in the world since he was taken. Maybe he should give the doctor a raise.

"Thank you", Anthony whispered, his eyes downcast so Loki couldn't read his face, but he could imagine it.

Smiling down at the man he answered: "You are most welcome."

Upon the affection ringing in his voice - a warmth he so rarely felt and even less often displayed - Jean raised an eyebrow questioningly. Deciding to ignore it - as well as the mocking grin that followed upon his attempt to feign indifference - he turned back to Anthony and bid him to come closer, to sit down again. Carefully the man came and put the papers he still held down next to the stack Jean had already lain down, then looked uncertain over the magazines.

"They are mostly in order, the oldest at the bottom", Jean explained helpfully, quickly sorting through the pile and coming up with one magazine, probably the oldest one.

Anthony nodded, almost shyly - expecting punishment, undoubtedly, even though Loki had already invited him to read the journals - then took the paper from Jean and flicked through it. Deciding to leave him to his pastime so he might go on in his own time and without the feeling of constant supervision - and the fear to do anything wrong that came with it - Loki turned to Jean and thanked him with a smile and a nod.

The man, long used to Loki's quietness, just smiled in return and turned to the door. Standing in the door frame he hesitated and looked back. "Lee left half an hour ago. He said he’s going to head back to his family if you don’t need him anymore." There was a question in the way he formed the words.

Loki had called him away once from his family holiday - knowing that his family was aware of the debt they owed him, even if Lee probably hadn’t spoken about the exact circumstances they had met under - and while he knew that Lee would come whenever he called he didn’t want to exploit the man’s service nor did he want to keep him away from his wife and kids - or his niece, and the two grandchildren he had had born to him in the last three years -, knowing how he would react to most everyone who tried to keep him, Loki, from his kids. "Can you tell him that it is okay?", he bade Jean. "I don’t think we will need his service in the next time." Or at least he didn’t expect it. Anthony was beginning to settle in, and he wouldn’t have to leave the house again for the next few days, so he could keep tabs on him. "Tell Mary to make sure that his expenses are covered."

Jean gave him the look he deserved for that sentence - Mary had been his housek eeper for so long now, she knew what to do without him looking over her shoulder constantly.

Chuckling to himself he ducked his head, while Jean rolled his eyes over his antics, turned around and left them alone, closing the door behind him with an almost inaudible click.

Loki himself turned back to his work, but couldn't fully concentrate on it for Anthony was still not reading but only nervously flicking through the pages, throwing glances at the newer magazines but obviously not daring to touch them.

"Are you searching for something particular?", he asked eventually.

Anthony startled and froze again for a moment, before he blurted out: "I ... what date is it?"

Blinking - he hadn't known how much the man  _hadn't_ known - he answered: "The 14th of December."

The sudden stillness of the man told him that he was probably realizing for the very first time how long he had really been gone from the world. "165 days", he whispered, slowly, voice full of anguish.

Loki didn't kn ow what to say to that -  _you'll be alright? It will be better now? You can stop counting the days till you're free again, or die if you never manage to escape?_ There was nothing to  distinguish himself from the others that had owned Anthony - nothing but his intentions, his way to keep him. 

A sudden sharp intake of breath startled him out of his thoughts. "Ten days to Christmas eve", Anthony observed, his voice trying for lighter as if he intentionally changed the topic.

And, okay, that was nothing he had expected. Maybe someday he would understand the mortals' obsession with dates, most of all  _this_ date. Really, even living for almost two thousand years and visiting the humans' realm often - more so after three of his children were expelled from Asgard and he had to find another place to raise them, a  _safe_ place - he could not get a hang on that whole worship-business they had going, not to mention the gods they worshiped; it wasn't as if there had ever been one of their gods coming to any other realm. But at least with their Norse religion he could understand where it came from - the aesir and jotnar visiting Midgard, and fighting over it. Even the more nature-related religions had their roots in not-midgardians, as there are and were a lot of ljósálfar and svartálfar running around on Midgard over the years. But this new religion? He would have to ask Heimdall someday if he knew something about this person they believed to be their god’s son, though he wasn’t sure if the gate-keeper had even looked at that person since he had lived for such a short time and hadn’t even done something worth the watcher’s attention. Who would have thought that he would still play a role two thousand years after his death - so much time for the mayfly’s life-span of a human? 

Sighing he returned to the present. "Yes, it is", he confirmed the date. "If you want, I'm pretty sure Jean and Mary are going to make cookies sometime this week. Considering how many they normally make I think they would be more than happy to have help."

The man's face lit up at once, then became embarrassed. "I'm not sure I'm going to be much of a help", he admitted. "I normally have problems making more than scrambles eggs."

So he should never let him be responsibly for the kitchen. Loki just shrugged. "I'm sure they will find a way for you to help them." Then, half turning back to his work he said, in reference to the magazines: "Read them. If you have any questions after that you may ask them later." For even if he liked to spend time with his new, much too intelligent pet he couldn't ignore his company. Mikey would have his head for that (and he learned that nothing is worse for the continuation of a company than a pissed-of assistant, most of all when it is the assistant of the boss).

They sat like this for the rest of the morning, Loki working through his mail and the inquiries of some companies whether he wanted to work for them or not - Mikey knew better than to decide that for him even though he didn't know about the (sometimes illegal) ways Loki had to confirm a company's integrity. Really, he would hate to take on someone as a client just to find out later that they were dealing with drugs or supporting child-labor in third-world-countries or something similar. That was just bad for business, and that was simply something Loki wouldn't have. 

Checking his cell phone he found a missed call from the little reporter he had contacted earlier in which he confirmed their date tomorrow. Loki grinned - now he only needed to convince him of his own good intentions and the scum that had dared to lay hand on what he had claimed for himself would wish for death ... or at least for enough money to escape the much harder prison Loki's influence would send them to. Not that they would have success with that.

Smiling cruelly when he indulged for a moment in his dreams of them brought into Asgard's - abandoned - torture chambers he caught Anthony trying to suppress a cough. Alarmed he looked down at the man. Was he cold?

He didn't shouldn’t be. It was comfortable warm in here, even for his aesir form, and there were no goose bumps on his skin - something that he had come to know of as a sign of humans being cold - and he was quite comfortably hunched over an article about on of those wars humanity seemed to start almost daily - really, he would never understand why they so violently objected to him beginning one of his own; maybe it was just that he was not human himself, the same as siblings may fight each other with teeth and claws until someone else came along, thinking to harm one of their's, and they turned united on him? He at least would have the head of anyone who dared to lay a hand on Thor – not counting this puny mortal  _villains_ he played with - but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t indulge his own anger should he ever get the chance to do so.

But coming back to the task at hand he thought it better to ask: "Are you cold?"

Startled the man looked up, his eyes a bit wide because of the unexpected interruption, his face a confusing mix of relief, worry and anticipation. "No", he said eventually, "But ..." Again this hesitation, but this time he overcame his reluctance on his own and asked: "Can I … can I have something to drink, please?"

At that Loki's heart filled with pride. Pride for this stubborn fragile mortal to keep himself together, to hold on his sense of self even in the most dreary circumstances, but also pride for himself, for it had been him that had found the mortal and lighted the spark of self-esteem in the human anew.

"Of course", he answered, opening the drawer and taking one bottle out ... on second thought, he felt the need for water himself. So he took the last one out as well. "You have but to ask, Anthony." Yes, making sure he heard this name whenever something good happened to him. "Here you go."

The human took the bottle with slightly shaking hands, his eyes still a bit wide. "Thank you", he said, before unscrewing the cap and downing half the water in one go.

But still, it was only half of it, before he put the bottle down beside him. He trusted Loki to let him have the rest, to give him more if he asked for it. Really, the human was showing him a trust that hadn't been placed into him for more years than he cared to count, at least not by someone else but his children and the few friends he called his own.

Still deep in thoughts Loki took a sip from his own water - n ot even half as sweet as an asgardian spring, but than Asgard had the sweetest water of all realms excepting Alfh eim - when his eyes settled on Anthony's back. To be accurate, on the burn mark he still sported near his kidneys.

He had taken care of that yesterday in the morning, but he had forgotten about it in the evening, not to mention today.

"Apologies, Anthony, but it seems I've forgotten to take proper care of you." When the man looked up with a perplexed look in his eyes he gestured for him to stand up and come near while he stood up as well, resting lightly against the table. "Your burn. I trust that Lee has looked after it?"

The man was standing now, next to the desk. "He did", he said slowly, still unsure what was happening. "He said ... he said it looked good."

Pleased Loki took a step further, standing now right behind the mortal. And the trust the man showed when he bowed down under the hand Loki placed at his back - slowly, stiffly, but with little hesitation about getting in an even more vulnerable position with him - warmed his heart thoroughly.

When he had him the way he wanted him, laying across his desk, he examined the mark. The man was obviously right; the burn was less red, less hot than yesterday, the skin smooth and well on the way to being healed. "Good", he said, in a low voice, opened the tube and squirted some of the gel on Anthony's back. The mortal flinched when the cold hit him, but then relaxed under his hands when Loki began to spread the ointment over his whole back, taking the chance to make himself familiar with the other again and kneading into the slowly returning flesh under his hands, mindful of the new bruises the man sported.

Really, he enjoyed touching him too much ... but the smooth, strong skin felt so good under his fingers ... and the warm, rich earthy smell ...

Abrupt he took his hands back. He had made a promise to never touch him against his will, and he would keep this word. Even when what he really wanted was to continue to run his fingers over the warm, smooth skin. Even when the sight of him being  splayed out on his desk made his chest curl in strange feelings. Even when the smell of him - sun and earth and oil - made his mouth water.

Even when his pet made a low noise of protest when he stopped kneading the warm, lovely, strong back.

 


	28. Realization

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony finding out about the world ...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I have to admit, this is one of the chapters that get so long that you do cut them in half - there may also be such a lovely cliffhanger at the end that I couldn't resist ...  
> So, Tony today and tomorrow, too.

Tony just couldn't believe how much had happened in the world while he was incommunicado. It was as if the whole world just decided to change it’s curse so he wouldn't recognize it anymore once he was back.

Of course he knew that this was partly because of the way he had received information normally - carefully selected by Jarvis and Pepper. The first one going for what would interest him, the latter trying to get him to read what she thought he should know even if he disagreed - too boring in most cases. But really, in retrospective he couldn't believe why he would do that to himself. There was so much happening out there, so much people that lived and died and changed the world both in the right and the wrong direction. How could he have shut the world out before? Now he just wanted to know more,  _ever more,_ wanted to pull Louis away from the computer and hack into the internet, look up everything and nothing. There was something about a small earthquake in one of the papers, but no mention in the next issues again. Had people died? How many? Had they received help? Or - or the robbery at the national bank that Steve and Sam had stopped (mostly because it lay along their running route, and how could a potential robber try that trick with two super heroes only a shout away, not to mention the rest of the bunch living in the city?) - but had they been hurt? There was only mention of two lightly harmed bank employees and a customer with a broken leg, but while Steve would survive everything he could walk away from that didn't mean Sam could, too. Or the political scandal about the underage girl that one senator had screwed at his work place and claimed not to have known of her age. Two weeks there was barely anything else the reporters spoke about, then they vanished ... practically over night. That smelled of bribery, but whose? And what had happened, which consequences did this have, to the senator, the girl?

There were also statistics, numbers, articles that hit too much home. About prostitution, kidnapping, modern slavery. He skipped them, not daring to think how much he had disregarded that in the past, how much he had thought his country civilized compared to those tribes that lived still out there like they had done for thousands of years. While there were those that kept their woman like animals - or worse - there were always those that really kept to the traditions, giving women rules as well as men and rights along them.

Little wonder those wanna-be overlords from outer space had been this disgusted upon seeing them. He could understand them, even though he didn’t agree that  _they_ were any better.

But there were other news as well. News about StarkIndustries, whose stocks had only slightly lost value after his disappearance - no doubt due to Pepper and the wonderful -  _hand picked_ \- people of his R &D-department that had managed to finish his model for a new sound system in an amazing way. News about the Avengers -- Steve had been seen with Sharon picking up rings - they wanted to marry, Tony knew. Steve had proposed in a very old fashioned, absolutely sweet way that no-one but the other Avengers and a few very discreet restaurant people had witnessed. But there was also Clint giving lessons in archery for less fortunate children, Natasha having been seen with Pepper and an unknown woman - Maria Hill - rescuing a young man from robbery. Bruce receiving a science prize. Again Pepper, talking about helping families in Brasilia by expanding the branch there and supporting the education of their Brazilian employers’ children. Jane receiving her - long overdue - acknowledgment for the examination of the phenomenon of the Einstein-Rosen-bridge. And -

The paper almost fell out of his hand when he looked at his own face - the picture having been taken some months ago, shortly after a shopping trip. He remembered it well - Pepper almost driving him crazy with her demands that he had to show off his new haircut, and the new suit, dragging him in to a photographer - as if he not always looked splendid, he had thought at that moment, even though it was hot as hell and he had been sweating like mad under that lovely dove grey suit. And now, collared, enslaved, on his knees, he looked at this picture of himself at the peak of his life again and couldn't quite find words. Find words for those friends of his which even now - or then, four months after his capture - hadn't given up on searching for him.

"They love you", a soft voice broke into his thoughts and he looked up reflexively at the man who now held his life in his hands.

There was an unreadable expression on his face - sadness? Longing? - but he didn't appear to be angry - more affectionate, really - so Tony relaxed again. With the concern that Louis might be mad out of the way he looked down, his eyes falling on the article again, and that strange warmth filled his chest again. Did they really want him - the unreasonable, unpredictable, irresponsible guy with his head in the clouds on a good day and a much too loose mouth? Could it be that they really  _truly_ were his friends?

It seemed so. It seemed as if Tony Stark, after years of rejection and deception and shallowness had managed to find people that were sticking with him through everything life could throw at him.

He didn't know how long he sat there, just staring at the news paper, before the lunch gong chimed through the house.

Startled out of his musings he looked up, just to hear Louis sigh while he shut the computer down. "I'm never going to get this done, aren't I?", he said with an exasperated air.

He was almost at the door when he looked back to where Tony still knelt. "Don't you wish to eat, Anthony?", he teased, and Tony sprang to his feet. Of course, mealtime. He was meant to get something to eat, too.

"I’m sorry", he said, hurrying over to his master.

Louis was smiling indulgently, then opened the door and Tony's nose immediately distracted him - what the hell was that for a heavenly smell?

Even Louis seemed surprised. "Oh-oh, Jean made soljanka. You're in for one of the best dishes I have found in this whole realm." Rolling his eyes he added, almost to himself: "Though why he insists on making it for  _lunch_ of all times I won't ever understand ..."

That soljanka was heavenly Tony believed at once, when the smell was anything to go by, though having tasted Natasha's try on it he would have known anyway – it was he only dish the assassin could cook. The sudden growl of his stomach made him follow Louis at a brisk pace, almost overtake him. It only amused the other man, but at least he didn't delay their way down further after they visited the bathroom.

Jean was still at the oven, taking some small pastry pockets out, but waved cheerfully for them to sit down. None of the other’s were already there which meant that they would have to wait for them as Tony told his grumbling stomach.

"This smells delicious", Louis announced and Jean beamed with pride.

"I tried a new recipe and I think it's going fantastic with the soljanka”, he admitted.

Louis seemed intrigued. "What did you do?"

While they spoke about the pockets – apparently called rasstegaj - Tony got distracted by Mary's arrival who smiled down at him and asked: "Are you alright?"

Nodding Tony smiled back. "Just scraps and bruises", he confirmed, supposing correctly that she was referring to his body’s state, for for once his mind was absolutely fine.

"Auðhumla's saggy tits, at least one thing to be grateful for", exclaimed Sigyn behind him.

Tony gifted her with a smile, but something distracted him. "I've heard that before ... are you aesir?" Because, really? Auðhumla's saggy tits? That was something he was pretty sure he had hear Thor say before, too.

Sigyn shrugged, seemingly not caring at all. "I am. Lou ... was only raised in aesir ways."

There was so much meaning in this short words, but by the way Louis stiffened Tony assumed that this was a rather sore point and he didn't want to anger his master. Instead he got more comfortable on his cushion - made even easier by the soup plate and the plate with the rasste-whatever Jean brought him. This was smelling absolutely delicious.

Really, there were moments he disliked being an Avenger. The enemies they made made sure they couldn't just run around hiring staff, and while at least Steve and, surprisingly, Clint enjoyed cooking there was no way they cooked all the time for the whole gang - and take away just didn't have the same taste. So they had to make do with middle class cooks and if Tony ever got out of this he would hire a five-star cook, security be damned.

Maybe it was the meal - who was he kidding?  _Of course_ it was the food - that distracted him enough from the talk that he startled when he suddenly heard his name being called. Looking up he saw Louis and Sigyn looking expectantly down at him. 

A blush run up his face, and he self-consciously bit his lip. "I'm sorry. I wasn't listening." He should have been paying attention. He  _would_ have, only a few days earlier, but the peace here had dulled his instincts, taken the edge off his alertness.

Though that might not be that much of a catastrophe; Sigyn at least grinned outright, but Louis, too, was amused. "Keep that up and you'll be Jean's favorite in no time", he teased, assuming correctly that it was the taste of the meal that had distracted him. Jean laughed lightly and - one perk of sitting at the floor: he could see the other people's feet - kicked Louis in the shin. The man didn't react but instead began laughing at well, while Mary shook his head, smiling and looking as if she was watching a group of kids fool around.

It made his heart lighter to see them all acting so normal, so like the Avengers would while sitting around Tony's table. Made him feel safer, more at home than ever before.

When Louis looked back down to him he was considerable calmer, which probably explained why he didn't freak out when the man's hand reached for him, his fingers carding softly through his messy hair, and he asked, the voice soft and warm: "Sigyn and I were wondering if you would like to join us in the gym later?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PS: I have to admit, I have eaten soljanka. Whenever we have a great family gathering my grandma makes it, because most of us eat it, even the children, and making a lot of it doesn't really require more work - perfect for little ever-hungry Lokis and Sigyns. But I've never eaten rasstegaj, so I can't tell you how it tastes. I just think that Jean is the kind of guy who will try dishes from every country, and Loki and Sigyn have no preference anyway.
> 
> If you don't know what dishes I'm referring to: [Solyanka](http://www.food.com/recipe/russian-meat-solyanka-277165/), [rasstegai](http://rusexplorer.com/russian-cuisine/baking/rasstegai/)


	29. How to train your human

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Trials of the Warrior

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the title, I just couldn't resist ... XD

He still couldn't believe it. After what had happened yesterday, after he had so freaked out -  _ why had he accepted? _ Why had he allowed Louis to take his hand, loosely, warm, not holding but supporting him, making sure he didn't even want to run. There was a thumb running softly over his wrist like he had done himself when he tried to seduce a shy woman, calming her, calming him.

When he shuddered - not from the cold, even though it really was a bit colder down here - all basements seemed to be colder, and why hadn't he noticed it before? - he was drawn to the other man a bit more, drawn near the warmth of his body. 

"Are you cold, Anthony?"

He shook his head slowly. It wasn't cold. More nerves, and he should be allowed to be nervous, shouldn't he?

"Everything is going to be alright, Anthony", the smooth voice reassured him. "I do not intend for you to fight or anything, pet. You are just going to train your muscles - you have to get your strength back." A quick squeeze of the fingers still wrapped around his hand - steadying, calming. "Breathe, Anthony."

He followed the order, took deep gulps of air. It really helped a little, calmed him down and dispelled the hectic a bit until he couldn't hear his heartbeat quite so loud anymore and his hands stopped shaking.

"I ... I don't have to ..." Fuck, how thin his voice sounded!

"Of course not, my pet" Louis seemed almost amused by that thought. "I would have trouble keeping me in check were we to fight with you at  _ your best _ . As you are now ... no, you really don't have to fear me doing this."

Smiling reassuringly down at him he pulled him in the gym.

The room looked the same as yesterday: floor made of tatami mats, the walls white chalked, no windows but very good illumination coming from some hidden light sources. And all the  _ space _ \- there was nearly as much space as the ground floor had to have whiteout it being divided in several rooms. And then there was the small space at the one end of the room were there was the equipment - thick rubber and yoga mats, a punching bag, several weights and two closed chests.

And -

This time, with his sense not addled by panic, he could see the racks displaying swords, knives, whips, staffs, morning stars and hammers, axes. Not to mention all this war equipment that Tony didn't knew the name of - either because they were never native to earth, or because they got out of fashion several thousand years ago.

His eyes must have been as big as soup bowls because Louis chuckled lightly and, his hand sitting warm and firm on his shoulder, turned him away from the weapons to the part were a good part of the wall was covered by a mirror.

"That is really not for you", he said, his voice amused, before he became more serious again. "Aesir have something that is called the  _ Seven Trials of the Warrior _ . It's a way to both strengthen, stretch and warm the muscles, and since both Sigyn and I use it for warm up we thought it would be a good way for you to train without overtaxing yourself." 

Louid lead him to a spot in front of the mirror, then let go. "Only do what you feel capable of. Stop when you feel exhausted, or you lose your balance. You won't be punished for it." The last was said with a stern look that made Tony swallow and nod as it became obvious that Louis wouldn't continue without an answer. 

"Sigyn and I will show the different positions to you and correct you if necessary", Louis continued, and Tony felt his heartbeat increase as it finally sank in that  _ yes, this was going to happen.  _ He really would train with two insanely strong aliens, one of those his  _ master _ . 

A shiver run down his back and he felt his throat constrict as the panic hit him fully. And it wasn't even the kind of fear that made him run away - his feet just locked on the ground, his roaring blood drowned out any sound and white began to fill his view even though he still kept his eyes locked on Louis.

He simply couldn't move, couldn't hear, couldn't think - just fear filling him, making him it's prey and where did all the oxygen go ...?

A hard slap brought him back, made him breathe reflexively, then gulp down more air while he was getting pulled into a warm, strong body, arms locking behind him and soft words in his ear, reassuring him that nothing was going to happen to him. 

Slowly he calmed down enough to realize that it was again Louis that held him. Swallowing he went very still and tried: "I'm sorry. I should have tried harder ..." even though he had no idea how he should keep the panic attacks at bay - he hadn't been able to after New York, and while they were less often - the last one before he got abducted was several  _ months _ before - he still had problems breathing through them as Bruce had showed him. And after what happened in the last five months ... 

"Do not worry, Anthony", the silky voice told, no -  _ ordered _ \- him. "I do not expect you to continue as if nothing happened." A hand came to rest against his chin, drew it up a bit until Louis could see his eyes. "Tell me, Anthony", he was ordered, and it felt a lot like conditioning when he repeated the promises the man had given him and felt his body unwind in reflex. 

"Good man", he was praised, and then he was embraced again shortly before Louis turned him again to his spot in front of the mirror - perfectly placed so he could comfortably see both Sigyn and himself. "Now just do your best, Anthony, yes?"

He nodded, almost absentmindedly - he was still a bit out of it from the panic attack and the quiet calming from his master both. He hadn't thought the man would care this much, would reassure him in broad daylight,  _ in front of someone else _ , even if it was only Sigyn.

Then there was movement in front of him, drawing him out of his thoughts and he turned to Sigyn who showed him slowly the first position.

The  _ Seven Trials of the Warrior _ \- stupid title, and it really sounded like something Thor would choose - consisted of different positions that were held for everything between a few seconds and several hours, though from what Sigyn told him the norm was around two to three minutes each which meant that the  _ First Trial _ \- the warming up - with it's twelve positions took normally around half an hour. They went through it in thirteen minutes, and only because Tony had to be shown two of them several times before he got them correct - he just didn't have the strength to hold them for more than half a minute.

After that he was pretty exhausted and Louis allowed him to sit down on the stack of mats while the both of them went through the same pattern again, this time in the more correct time frame of thirty-six minutes - Tony could tell because there was a clock at one wall, and he really loved being able to tell the time again.

Watching the both of them go through the positions - every single one meant to both warm the muscles and stretch them, but simultaneously requiring a lot of strength to hold them without quivering - he couldn't help but see the differences between his own poor performance and their dance-like grace; there was no doubt in his mind that they had done this for many,  _ many _ years, probably more than he was alive, and their shifting from one position to the next was of a powerful elegance he could only admire. It really reminded him of a cross-over of a slow-motion recording of a ballet performance - something he had seen once to make sure his suits moved perfectly - and the way both Natasha and Steve - and Maria Hill - moved when they were fighting unarmed.

When they came to a stop - and it was almost a shock, seeing them end their exercise - Louis gestured him forward again and then showed him the  _ Second Trial _ \- the  _ Trial of the Young Warrior _ , which Tony translated in  _ meant to strengthen someone who isn't already a muscleman _ . And then they went through this.

Again positions and shifting, but this time he wasn't required to hold them for long - Sigyn told him to hold each one for not longer than twenty seconds - which he mostly managed - then go on to the next. The positions were different this time around, though. Where in the  _ First Trial  _ he would hold his arms in a comfortable way that even he might hold for longer - without the rest like standing on one leg or bowing his trunk in an insane way - he would now hold them at ninety degree at his side, trying to not drop them while stretching his leg out in front of him and - okay, so he didn't do this, but both Louis and Sigyn did – crouching down, staying there for twenty seconds, then slowly, gracefully - again,  _ Louis and Sigyn _ \- going up and changing the standing leg, stretching the other leg out and going down again.

He was proud of himself to manage the eighteen positions once without much fuck up, but when Sigyn and Louis began again he just let himself fall to the floor. He didn't even care much if Louis punished him for it afterward - he just couldn't work up the strength to go through it again.

But when Louis noticed him sitting on the floor he just smiled and nodded once to a stool standing next to the wall, where he had placed three bottles of water earlier.

It was an invitation and Tony hesitated only for a moment - after all, his throat was dry and he kept licking the sweat from his lips - before he went along with it. The bottles themselves were all ordinary, unmarked and unopened so he just chose one, unscrewed the cap and took a deep gulp of the marvelous fresh water. For a moment he considered drinking it all, but he wasn't sure how long this would go on and if he would be required to do anything again, and he really didn't want to use up his whole water at once.

Still unsure he just took another gulp, then screwed it shut again and sat the bottle down beside his legs, seating himself on the stool and watching the two go through the positions again. They still seemed fresh, though after the third round there were sweat drops beginning to form on Louis' forehead - which could be due to the fact that none of the positions looked familiar to Tony anymore and were all considerably more difficult than the ones they had shown him.  _ Third Trial _ or  _ Forth _ or whatever, then.

Tony continued to watch them for a while, until Sigyn looked up, in his eyes and motioned him over once again with a sharp move of her head. He did not dare hesitate, though he wasn't sure if he would manage these positions.

When they changed position again he found to his relieve that he didn't need to, for they changed into the first position of the  _ Second Trial _ again.

When he had fought his way through the whole pattern again - and it  _ was _ a fight, really, to not just let his arms or legs drop or sit down entirely and abandon this whole crap - he was standing on quivering legs, even more exhausted than he had been after their walk through the house. Still, he was proud to have managed that, to have fought and succeeded over his weakness.

And when Louis turned to him after having downed a good part of his own water and holding Tony's bottle out to him, saying: "You have done good", he couldn't help the proud smile that played around his lips.

After that he was again only audience when Louis and Sigyn - both looking only slightly less fresh than when they had started - went to the racks, pulled one staff each out and then, after a few exercising slashes, proceeded to stab and hit at each other. It was the first hint Tony got of what they were truly capable of - he hadn't realized how powerful they were until Sigyn managed to get a glancing hit under Louis' cover and the man literally flew a few metres. And the next surprise was their resistance, for Louis didn't even seemed faced when he stood up again immediately and proceeded to try to take Sigyn down. He managed four out of the five times they spent on the staffs, but was considerably less successful with the spears - two wins - and the swords - only one, and that was more dumb luck than anything else, even for Tony's untrained eyes. 

And again, they went through it with the grace of years-long exercise, as if they had been drilled in this since childhood, but both of them with an elegance that made Tony think more of dancing. They had the figure for it, at least - both long but without bulking muscles, strong but not heavy. They were build for speed, not for power, and used their weapons less point-on and more to wound their opponent from the side, surprising the other with a quick but not too powerful blow that was nothing much in itself, but in number and time slowed them down until they could plant the final blow. Tony had seen it often enough, really, when Natasha fought at their side, or sometimes even Clint and Steve or Sam. Hell, Tony himself used this technique when he had to go head-to-head with a more powerful opponent. The only ones he had never seen use it were the Hulk - for obvious reasons -, Bucky - who was a good fighter, but really needed some sense beaten into him sometimes - and Thor - who would look at him, with those big blue puppy eyes and say that he would never resort to that. Since he was still alive after thousands of years of battle Tony believed that someone else in his circle of friends had had the sense to cover his back, maybe even Loki considering the way he fought them.

Thoroughly humbled - and knowing now more intimately than he ever wanted why Louis wasn't even the slightest bit worried to sleep in the same room as a desperate man thinking he would be abused if he didn't escape - and a bit recovered he let himself be let through the _ First Trial _ again - apparently it could be used as cool down as well - and then downed the rest of the water, uncaring if they wanted something more from him - he was simply to exhausted to care.

It was the fresh, cool smell of his master, more intense now that he was really sweating, that pulled him out of his thoughts and made him realize that the man stood before him. 

"You have done really good today, Anthony", Louis praised, and he felt warmth spread through his entire being. A hand came up and wiped sweat that was about to drop from his eyebrow, while another steadied him at his shoulder. "I think we will do this again, daily, until you can manage at least the  _ Second Trial _ . It will help you build up your strength again."

His first reaction was panic - going through this again,  _ daily _ ? Dropping down exhausted while those two beings just went on to fight each other? Being so utterly helpless in their reach?

Bun then he thought _ When am I not helpless when it comes to them? They can take me down every time they like, can abuse me, can do to me everything they want. And what have they done? They have repaired cars with me, helped me calm down when I had a panic attack, gave me to eat and drink even without being asked. Cared for me.  _

_ Made me kneel and eat on the floor, and treated me like a pet,  _ called _ me pet. _

_ Nothing is perfect. But I don't think they will hurt me. _

And really, that was all there was to say to that.

 


	30. Shower

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki's view on Tony's trip into the gym

He had had his doubts. Taking Anthony down into the gym again was a risk - just too easily it could have backfired, could have send him back into a fit of panic. But Anthony needed to train, needed to build up muscles - and if he could see that even without Lee pointing it out, he needed to do so as fast as possible - and waiting to bring him down into the gym again would only result in him getting scared of the room, or the basement as a whole. Loki had seen it before, when people fell from horse back and were to hurt to go up again immediately, or when their first slaughter of battle was too brutal, leaving scars on the soul. There were ways to deal with that, but it was better to not let it fester.

And it was not only that - the look in Anthony’s eyes after he had seen the papers spelled trouble. He really had to get him away from the magazines for a while, or he would just get another nightmare.

Still, he was surprised when Anthony said yes - though not as surprised as the man himself, judging by his look - and prepared when arriving in the room resulted in another panic attack. At least he now knew how to calm him down - it would be really embarrassing to have to call Lee back after just sending him on his way.

But that was just the beginning. He had thought about it while getting some water bottles - getting Anthony down in the gym was one thing, but what should he do with him once they were there? He didn't own these human things called cross trainer, or stair master. Jean got enough workout while he cleaned the house and wouldn't go near the gym if Loki gave him a raise. And Mary, while otherwise pretty unconventional, thought it hilarious when he assumed she might like to train there, too.

So there were only Sigyn and he, and they didn't need any of those human training equipment. Really, if Anthony were an aesir he would just ... have him go through ... the Trials of the Warrior ... but why not? Yes, they would have to show him, and he was not nearly strong enough for the later Trials, but the First and the Second? That should be enough to help him get his strength back.

So he brought him down in the gym and both Sigyn and he showed Anthony one of the secrets that had aesir warriors be superior for millenniums now. Not that it was a big secret - Sigyn would have his head if he ever tried to reveal the real secrets of Asgard.

It was no surprise for either of them that Anthony struggled with the First Trial, managing only in a rough-and-ready manner, but he struggled once through every position. When it was clear that he couldn't anymore afterward Loki send him to the mats at the end of the room - it was colder here in the basement, and he didn't want his pet human catching a cold because he sat down on the floor. Really, the mats were better, and it also kept him from getting worried while he began the First Trial again, floating between positions that he had been taught to hold since he was old enough to walk. It was, really, the closest aesir warriors ever came to meditation - walking along the Trials of the Warrior, most of all the First and the Fifth which was about strengthening the balance. But it was better and easier to find his inner peace this way, most of the days - probably because as a boy he had been taught from a very young age on - than the meditation techniques Freya had shown him for the use of his magic. So when he now stood there, his legs apart and his weight shifted to the right one, his chest rigid and his arms held high, lightly opened, over his head, the palms facing the roof so he was stretched as much as possible, he could relish in the feeling of his own strength that had him able to hold that position, even when he finished it and went on his toe tips, still stretched and without the slightest quivering. He waited until the time was up - counting his heartbeats as his once-teacher had taught him - than slowly, elegantly - because fighting is  _grace_ , is an  _honor_ to both opponents as much as dancing is to it's partners - took his hands down and sank simultaneously down on his whole feet, than further in his knees while his arms reached behind him to stretch his chest muscles. He loved the feeling of strength that came with this.

It took them a good while to finish the First Trial, but he felt calmer after it, more himself - more at home in his body - than before, and he called Anthony over, showed him the Second, and more complicated, Trial. A young aesir learned the Trials at different times in his life to avoid mixing them up, but Anthony was not only a grown-up man but a genius, and Loki felt quite confident that he would manage.

And he did. Struggling, sweating, with gritted teeth, but he did manage the Second Trial. He really had earned the right to drink his water, though Loki would have given it to him anyway. Sigyn and he went through the Second Trial again, then through the Fourth - more their level - and the Sixth - to train holding grace and pose even when it was difficult, and you had to move through the positions. After that again the Second Trial so Anthony could join them again, but that wasn't really difficult anymore, now, for them. By the time they finished he felt the warmth in his muscles, the energy humming beneath his skin, and he wanted nothing more than to  _fight_ .

Fortunately Sigyn chose staffs for the first round - it was his favorite weapon after the knives he carried under his clothes - so he actually had a chance to beat her, which said a lot about his proficiency - not many could win against a captain of the royal body guard of Asgard. Next round was spears - not as good balanced, and he wasn't as aware as she of the tip's sharpness, so she won, even if only slightly.

The last go was with swords, but here he was almost fully in the defensive, and if not for her actually  _trying_ to teach him he would have lost after the first few hits.

They closed with another round of the First Trial to loosen the muscles and avoid cramps, then he took a deep gulp from his water before turning to his brave, brilliantly pet who had fully exhausted slumped down on the ground.

"You have done very good today, Anthony", he praised, and he saw the man blushing. Slowly he wiped a drop of sweat from his brow before it could run in his eyes and sting, then put a hand at his shoulder, steadying while he told him that they would be doing this daily from now on. But really, how should he resist, seeing how wonderful a view the man in his out-powered glory presented, sweat running over his brown skin like droplets of fresh rain. He really needed to get him into the sun more - the brown was bleached out, but what he remembered of the sun-kissed skin was purest honey.

Not that Anthony was of the same opinion - rather, he looked as if he wanted to run from the prospect of having to struggle through this every day from now on. But after only a short moment he calmed down again, leaned slowly in the hand Loki still had on his shoulder. Yes, yes, this was what he wanted. This trust displayed by an once-enemy, now pet.

Though he suspected that Anthony would fight him far more were he aware of whom he placed his trust into.

"Come", he said eventually. "I think we all need a shower now."

The way the human perked up showed him how much he liked that suggestion, and he chuckled lightly, running his hand a last time through the other's hair before returning briefly to the racks to make sure that his weapons were okay. They were - no wonder here, as an asgardian male he was trained from a very young age to keep them in best shape, and one brief go like this afternoon, without blood to coat them, wasn't enough for them to require extra care. So he just put them back, nodded once to Sigyn who had found something to clean at her spear - she was a bit more pedantic, but than she was a body guard, the only aesir warriors he would ever meet to not dream of a glorious death in battle which unfortunately pushed them in the exact opposite direction of being absolutely pedantic - and then returned to Anthony so they could both return up in his chambers.

Once there he stripped quickly, letting his clothes fall down carelessly. He would put them in the laundry afterwards, but now he was actually yearning for some water to chase away the sweat and, almost more, he wanted to put his human under the shower and then watch the drops run down over his hot damp skin.

Anthony had no objection to that, it seemed, and again he was grateful that he had let the  bathroom designer talk him into a very big, three-persons-or-more shower, because it would have been very narrow in a normal one, possibly resulting in another panic attack.

When he had Anthony where he wanted him he just made him stand - his hands braced against the wall in his back - then took a shower gel out of his shelf that should go well with his scent - orange-cinnamon, something  Christmassy \- and squirted some on his hand. The smell filled the room and he wondered again how human s could think their primary sense was the visual when they were so clearly scent-driven. There was one realm only who was overwhelming his nose more and that was Ljósálfarheimr , but then that was more the realm's natural odor than the elves themselves. Aesir could barely perceive all that Midgard had to offer, and when he changed in his true form his stronger jotnar senses were practically muted by the chaos of information. 

But the human smiled, savoring the scent, and relaxed even though Loki put his hands on his shoulders. The trust displayed by the tiny man when he, while still looking a bit uncertain, barely flinched and then let him run his s oapy hands over his skin ... Loki would have liked to do more than just wash him, would have liked to take  more time, but that was too early for it, so he just soaped him, washed his hair with a chocolate shampoo - really, Mary was right; he was  _addicted_ to Midgard's scents - then used the shower head to clean him.

When he washed himself - much quicker, with less attention; he didn't need to feel warm soft hands on himself - the man leaned against the wall, watching him. He was the very epitome of exhausted satisfaction - slumping, yes, but his eyes were bright and shone, a small smile playing around his lips, and he would have loved to keep him happy and safe for the rest of his life.

As soon as he had finished he opened the door, took a soft towel and carefully dried the man. It was warm in the house, but he wouldn't be wearing clothes and Loki actually planned to do a bit more than just slump in the bed this afternoon - for him this had been barely enough to get a sweat -, even if Anthony looked as if the only thing he was up to for the rest of the day was sleep ing. So, drying him up and making sure that the magic on the collar still worked - he had  enchanted it when he first bathed the man to not get wet, or else he would have had to remove it to a void irritation on his pet's skin.

Once he was finished he dried hi mself as well, which was a good bit easier due to his higher body temperature - most of the water was already evaporated. His long hair would need more time to dry, but he hated using the  blow- dr y er so he just put them in a ponytail. Of course, he could have used magic to dry it, but he had foun d it then to be duller than normal and he was vain enough to like his hair shiny.

A few minutes later found them back in his study, Anthony snoring softly on the blanket Loki had once again provided him with on the floor next to the desk and yet also the two stacks of news papers, while Loki himself couldn't hold back a smile when he watched the puny, lovely, stubborn mortal he had claimed for himself.

 


	31. Bitten off too much

Tony would never get over the feeling of being cleaned by another. It had happened when he was a small child, or later when he was drunk and Rhodey had to help him clean up a bit for the camera. And later, when he lay in hospital, by hot young nurses - or not so young, inexperienced ones ...

But the way Louis went about it was simply different. There was a bit of the methodical care of his earlier nurses, and Rhodey's affectionate suffering, but decidedly nothing sexual about it. He still couldn't believe it - he was vain enough to know he looked good, even half starved and with bleached-out skin and hungry, feverish eyes, but Louis never even looked at him this way.

_ And here we have Tony Stark, the walking dissatisfaction. If someone touches him he flinches from the feel of their skin on his, but if they don't he longs for it. _

Maybe it was the simple fact that he needed to know he was still desirable, even after all that had been done to him. Maybe he just missed to chose his own lover. But whatever it was, he felt a bit rejected by Louis' disinterest as much as he was relieved.

So it was with very mixed feeling that he endured the other's touch, that he let himself be cleaned and then dried, that he waited until Louis had dried himself.

He had to stifle a yawn when he rubbed the water out of the long hair, then pulled it back in a ponytail. A small part of him informed him that hey, the man looked good this way. Not that hot, dark and dangerous had not always worked - and really, Louis was very well build. Even the short glances he threw his way made it clear that the man didn't need to hide anything, and that he could make money as a model should he ever decide that  _ rich asshole _ wasn't enough for him.

And then there was the part of him that was  _ very _ _ well build. _

He quickly looked aside, hoping that the man was distracted enough by his rummaging through the closet that he hadn't noticed Tony checking him out. He didn't want to give the other ideas.

He didn't want  _ that _ shoved up his ass, rushed and insufficiently prepared ...

A few quick gulps of air and a short repetition of his new personal mantra calmed him down and he then followed Louis from the room, down into the study, where he got his blanket laid out for him. 

He didn't even think about it, just laid down and was fast asleep.

?Ä¿

Tony woke up to the sun streaming golden into the room, coating every surface in an almost surreal shine. The sky he could see from where he lay was brightly blue, and Louis was still sitting at the desk, writing something. When he heard him move he smiled down at him but otherwise kept his silence, turned back to his work.

Slowly Tony sat up, finding to his disturbance the news papers gone - had he been bad? Was the man angry with him? What had he done to be denied that treasure?

Not daring to ask he just got up, slowly, hoping he would be allowed to at least continue the book he had begun - Louis had seemed to want to keep him occupied ...

"What are you doing?!", cut a harsh voice through his thoughts, freezing him instantly. Had he assumed wrong? What had he done to get this voice so cold as he had never heard it before? Fear coiled cold and heavy in his stomach and he turned, ducking his head in and begged: "I ... I just wanted to ... please, I never ..."

"Hold your tongue,  _ human _ !", came the offended answer. Louis looked livid, his face white with ire, the red eyes sparkling, and when he stood up Tony flinched back.

That only seemed to make him even more angry, and he grabbed him, forced him to follow him out of the room.

"Sigyn!", he called. "Get the car. I think the little boy is getting too accustomed to peace." It rang cruel, and for a moment Tony couldn't breath ... it was as if he heard every taunt, every sharp word all his owners had ever thrown at him in one sentence, and where had all the air gone ...?

It took only mere minutes before he was in the car, and the ride was tense, the atmosphere suffocating. He tried to hold back tears, and sobs, stopped his begging after the sharp command to cease his pathetic sniveling. Whimpering, limping he was forced back to the rat that ran the slave house, the Mistress standing there and laughing. 

"He was too much for you?", she asked, and Louis snorted. 

"Not enough fun, the pathetic little scum", he corrected her cold.

Maybe it was that that prevented him from noticing the new arrivals - the large blonde, the redhead, the dark-skinned man. Two of the guards grabbed him while he still desperately tried to take hold of Louis' arm, his clothes, his feet, anything ...

"Please, please, don't give me away!", he cried, and he heard the Mistress' cruel delighted laugh. 

"Are you sure you want to give him away? I haven't heard him ever beg so prettily, and believe me, I have tried."

"I told you, I can break every pet," Louis answered cold. "He shouldn't give you any more trouble, now."

The too red mouth of the woman formed a mockery of a smile. "I think you are right. And just in time for the show." Turning to the rat she ordered: "Ready him."

The man bowed, then took hold of Tony's arm and turned him away from Louis, who simply looked down at him, at his attempts to make him take Tony back with him.

"You don't think I would take scum like you in my house, do you?", he asked sneering. "It was just a job - I break you in, and then I get my real prize." And he walked forward, took hold of another leash attached to the collar of a female slave Tony remembered from one of the news papers he had read only this morning.

While he walked away, smirking at the whimpering girl, those three visitors walked forward and Tony could see them for the first time - Steve, Pepper, Rhodey. All of them wore expressions of disgust and anger, Pepper’s face was almost white.

"I thought you stronger than that", Steve was the first to speak, his voice a perfect mirror of his face.

"When she told me of you I thought she must have made a joke. But I see now she was right", Rhodey spat. When he saw Tony's shocked look he turned back with a disgusted snort and walked over to the door Louis had vanished through before.

A noise escaped Tony's lips he wouldn't have been able to identify even himself, but that made Pepper flinch. "Why did you have to do this?", she asked, sad and disappointed. "Was it not enough for you to ignore me? Did you have to harm StarkIndustries as well?" She shook her head. "Don't worry, Tony. I'm going to take care of my company. I won’t let you harm it anymore." And then she followed Rhodey out of the room.

Scared, confused, guilty ...  _ abandoned _ Tony stayed behind, whimpering, warm wetness running down his cheeks. 

Steve threw a last, disappointed look at him. "Bruce wanted to come, too. It was for the best Natasha convinced him to stay behind at Sam’s sick bed, don’t you think", he said in a flat voice, and Tony just  _ knew _ all at once that Bruce would have hulked out, would have been angry at him for letting himself fall so low. "I’ll tell him you send your regards" were the last words before Steve turned out of the door, too.

Not that this was all there was for Tony, now. No, the guards that still had him in their hold lead him forcefully along the floor, down to the show room. And he remembered - _ he remembered  _ \- what now came. He remembered the shows - the people that had gathered to see his humiliation, the people that catcalled and whistled and laughed while he was presented on his knees, his bare ass in the air for their amusement. It had happened before, two times, and he had always coped with the thought that they were so much smaller, so much beneath him that they needed to bring him to his knees to feel great. 

But it wouldn’t work this time, not now,  _ not yet _ , not after he had had his heart ripped out of his chest just moments ago. When he had again learned to respect,  _ to be respected _ , and had it get taken away. Not when his friends had seen him for once as he truly was, and then had left him. Not when -

Gasping he opened his eyes, his whole body shaking, his throat raw, his eyes burning. There was nothing he could see through the blur covering his eyes, nothing he could hear through the gasping breaths and thundering blood.

And then he became aware of the coldness in his neck, in his back, and he saw the blue in front of him, his rapid blinking revealing blood-red eyes looking concerned down at him. It was instinct almost that made him spring forward as much as he could in his position, wrap his shaking arms around the cold blue neck and squeeze,  _ hold _ ,  _ never let go _ . His teeth began to clatter within moments, but he would not,  _ could not _ , let go, not now, not  _ him. _

"Please, please ...", he sobbed, not knowing how to say what he wanted, not hearing a replay, but not stopping, _ never stopping _ . 

There was a hole were his self had been, shattered pieces of his world, blackness. He had  _ lost _ . Not only his master, his friends. He had lost his last anchor, his last grasp on sanity, on the world, on  _ home _ . His last piece of himself, lost,  _ lost _ . Never,  _ never again _ . He didn’t know what had happened, but he knew that he couldn’t let Louis go, because getting abandoned again would mean his sure end, would shatter everything, would turn him in nothing more but the mindless slave they wanted. 

And so he held on, for his life, for sanity, for  _ himself. _

Eventually he calmed down, his breath returning to normal, and he heard Louis soft murmuring - like this morning, after his nightmare ...  _ nightmare. _

Nightmare.

It ..  _ it had been a nightmare _ . Nothing of this had been  _ real _ \- Louis  _ hadn’t _ abandoned him,  _ hadn’t _ brought him back to that house, to the Mistress, back into that filthy blackness his life had been before him. His friends didn’t sneer at him, left him  _ there _ . The article this morning, his likeness in the papers. They  _ wanted him back _ , were searching for him. And they would never ... surely they would never turn from him, even after this ...? No, they were  _ heroes _ . They knew that the victims are never the ones to blame ... that everyone can become a victim ...

There was something bubbling out of his mouth, a laugh, a sob, he didn’t know. He didn’t _ care _ . All that he cared about was that cold smooth skin under his hands, the solid pressure in his back, the scent of spiced frost filling his nose, the soothing voice in his ear.

"I’m sorry", he whispered. "Please ..." He couldn’t find the words to acknowledge the need in him.

Maybe Louis knew. Maybe he understood. But all that was important was that the pressure against Tony’s ribs increased until his breath became obstructed a bit, that his face was pulled into the other’s neck, that a low, dangerous voice growled possessively in his ear: "I will never allow anyone else to own you, Anthony. You will be mine for the rest of your days."

And in this moment that was more reassuring than any promise of safety ever could be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really am sorry - I know I promised it would get better. It really will. This should be the absolute low, after that it's going to be better.
> 
> In the meantime you could do me a favor and tell me you had at least a small heart attack while reading that chapter - I know that I had to stop writing several times because it just got too much.  
> Poor Tony. Let Loki take care of you.


	32. Caring

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Why Loki wasn't there to wake him up at once. Why he was in his jotun form. Calming his Anthony.  
> Why Loki HATES hamburgers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for your comments on the last chapter. I was so anxious about it ...
> 
> This one is better, really. It's Loki POV, and filled mostly with possessiveness and care. It's also a bit longer than normal chapters, because Thor managed to completly throw my plans for the next chapter ... and he isn't even appearing in it ... XD

Pleased with the way the day had turned out Loki looked down at the mortal sleeping peacefully next to him. His hair - exactly long enough to comfortably run his fingers through it - was sleep tousled and from the way it looked he just knew that it would be warm and damp to the touch. His face for once was without trouble, his eyes moving behind his lowered lids in a way that indicated he dreamed - what would the mortal dream about? Fighting his enemies? Or more peacefully dreams - developing some of this amazing things his company then produced? Laughing with the other Avengers, partying?

Whatever it was, it must have been very good indeed for there was a small smile playing around his lips.

Eventually Loki tore his eyes away from his mortal and turned back to his work. There was still that enquiry by this fruit company that Mikey had send him around a week prior ... the man must be thrilled to know Loki was bound to his own house, even if he had no idea as to the reason - Loki was efficient, and fast, but he would normally never allow himself to be chained to his desk for more than a few hours at a day, and never both the morning and the afternoon.

He had just finished the paperwork - and it had taken the  _ whole damned afternoon! _ \- when his phone went off. Quickly he grabbed it, noticing that Anthony went restless from the sound. Lowering his voice he answered the call with a quick: "One moment, please" before he left the room so as to not further disturb Anthony. The man needed his sleep - he had been taxed enough as it was, and the sleep would surely help to soothe his muscles.

Once outside he closed the door and went down the floor into the library before he uncovered the receiver and said: "Yes?"

He hadn’t bothered to check the identity of the caller as there were only so much that knew this number -  _ Loki’s _ number, not  _ Louis’ _ \- but maybe he should have because Rogue’s voice was a bit of a surprise. He hadn’t expected an answering call  _ this fast _ .

"Here’s Rogue", he said, his voice raspy with fear. "It’s about the Mistress."

Impatient Loki rolled his eyes. "I gathered that", he interrupted him. What else would the man call him about? "What of her?"

An audible swallow that had him narrowing his eyes. "It seems she’s left the country. I can still find more about her!" The last rushed, as if he expected punishment for what he could nothing do about - not fully without reason, as Loki got more agitated by the second. "It’s just ... I’ll need more time. But I’ll get you something on her!"

At least he hadn’t forgotten about Loki’s request, and Rogue and his gang of drug dealers and pimps was still a good bet to get incriminating information about the Mistress and her likes, even if they were not the only source he had. Or at least that was what Loki told himself while he tried to rein his anger in with slow, deep breaths.

Rogue, canny man that he was, didn’t interrupt him.

"Do as you can", Loki said at last. "Only call me again when you have something to report." He took the phone away from his ear, but decided to add, his voice cold and harsh like frost: "Don’t wait too long" before he ended the call.

His breath fell gasping from his mouth - he was angry.  _ Really _ angry.

_ Had she known?  _ Or was it coincidence that she should leave the country at exactly this time? When would she return -  _ would _ she return? Of course she would, she had an empire build up here. There was no reason to let it collapse now, not unless she thought herself under pursuit.

But that couldn’t be the case. She had been operating for years now, and never had the police even  _ suspected _ anything about this slave trade ring. No, she was out for something else, maybe she wanted to expand. And that meant she would come back some time, and then he would get her.

Oh, how he would have loved to show her and the others that had thought to torture  _ Loki’s Anthony _ , what he was capable off. But he couldn’t, not if he wanted to have his revenge in the best way possible.

_ You took everything from Anthony that he has, that he  ** was ** , and then you humiliated him even more. And now I will take everything from  ** you ** \- and then eventually I may kill you ... _

A dark pleasure surged through him, almost blinded him with it’s intensity. Yes, he would  _ definitively _ do that.

It was only when he left the room that he became aware of the state he was in - the rage had called forth his jotun form.

Blinking irritated he looked down at his cold, blue skin. He had never before changed into his jotun form, no matter how angry he had been. But this time it had come naturally - the thought of having  _ anyone _ _ ever _ lay a hand on Anthony had made him choose the form he was the strongest in, both magically and bodily. 

He would have dwelled on this thought more, but a choked scream from behind his office’s door had him in motion before he could even think. The fragile midgardian door was almost pulled out of it’s hinges when he opened it to get to Anthony, and it took a moment for his attack-trained mind to process the fact that there was in truth no enemy, but another nightmare that tormented the man.

Writhing and groaning down at the floor, the blanket half tangled between his sweat covered limbs, glistening tears running down his cheeks and desperate sobs escaping his throat, he was the picture of pure agony, and Loki was beside him in an instant. There was no hesitation on his side, no thought to change back to his aesir skin so he would spare Anthony the sight of his alien blue form when he put his hands in the other’s neck, in his back, to pull him up from the nightmare that clawed at his sanity. 

When the man woke with a start he froze, unsure if he should haul him up the whole way, or let him down again, but then Anthony made that choice for him when he all but sprang forward, pressing himself as much as possible against Loki, his hands squeezing him so hard that he could have choked a human. His sobs began again, interrupted with whimpered pleads that he didn’t form out but that Loki could all to easy comprehend. 

When his teeth began to clatter from the coldness of his skin Loki again thought about letting him go, or changing his form at least, but dismissed both as not beneficial. In the worst case Anthony might think to take it as rejection and that was all to clear nothing the man could bear right now.

Still, when even his soft words, spoken in a language that Anthony wouldn’t understand but find soothing nonetheless - words Frigga had once spoken to a smaller Loki when he woke from a nightmare - couldn’t calm him down, when he began a hysteric laugh, started to apologize and beg again, Loki gave him the only thing he could think of right now that might help: His possessiveness.

Bowing down to the other man’s ear he said, his voice sharp and cold from the anger he felt within himself: "I will never allow anyone else to own you, Anthony. You will be mine for the rest of your days." The truth of his vow rang in his ears like a chime.

And Anthony ... melted in his arms as if all the fear, all the stress had been drained out of him.

?Ä¿

Once the crying had subsided and the man had pulled himself somewhat together again Loki cleared his desk just enough that he would find everything again tomorrow before he then touched Anthony by the shoulder, pulling him carefully along with him to the living room.

His fingers itched to wrap themselves around the man’s form, to keep him warm and safe and pull him into Loki’s frame. He wanted to  _ wrap himself around the other _ in a manner he hadn’t wanted with anyone than maybe Angrboda, or his kids. He wanted to keep him unhurt, hidden from the cruelties of the world.  _ And he couldn’t. _ Because no matter how close Anthony himself kept to him, how distressed he seemed whenever Loki went to far ahead, he also didn’t want closer contact. Didn’t want more than a hand on him. _ Couldn’t bear it. _

_ What have they done to you? _ , he wondered, even though it was mostly irrelevant -  _ They will all burn! _

Jean was already there, carrying plates and silverware in. When they entered he looked up, a teasing smile on his face that dimmed as soon as he saw Anthony’s face. 

"Hey man, what happened?" He slowly came around, but kept his distance when the other flinched a bit. "Sorry, I’m not coming closer", he said, holding his hands up a bit in a surrendering gesture. "I just ... can I do something?"

Loki shook his head  _ no _ when Anthony didn’t even seem to realize that this question had been for him. "The meal?", he asked.

Jean blinked. "Oh yeah. I’m almost done." Still he didn’t make a move to get it. "What happened?", he insisted.

"A nightmare", Loki offered, and the man winced. 

"Oh man, sure, that’s worse sometimes than anything else." And Loki remembered that the man had his own reasons for nightmares, and how often he had found him down in the kitchen when he went on his midnightly tips to plunder the fridge. "I’ve made hamburgers", he then said, and the way Anthony perked up a bit consoled Loki with the fact that he would make a perfect dish for  _ lunch _ and then something greasy as  _ this _ for  _ dinner _ . Noticing Anthony’s reaction Jean grinned even wider. "You should see Lok-Lou eat hamburgers. He’s still not mastered the  _ art _ of it." And the shy grin that got him made Loki forgive him for the almost slip - though even if he hadn’t caught himself the spell would have made sure that Anthony didn’t remember a thing about it.

So he just growled a bit, the tone of it most obvious in it’s playfulness, and went over to the couch to grab a few cushions and put them down on the floor, but didn’t make Anthony sit down immediately. Instead he waved Jean back to his preparations and took hold of the plates Jean had left on the table, passing the forks and spoons over to Anthony who held them for a moment as if he didn’t know what to do with them, before he distributed them on the table along with the plates Loki had already set down.

Loki took some glasses out of the bar and then watched the manner the man set the forks and spoon with, in the exact right angle to the edge of the table. He had a look of absolute concentration on his face as if this was a very difficult task.  _ Or as if he needs something else to focus on, so he can forget what he just saw _ .

He needed something else to do with his day than just sit in Loki’s office all the time, even if that was what Loki himself would have preferred. Some routine to keep him anchored. The daily exercise was a start, surely, but not enough, not for a mind as sparkling as this. Maybe ... yes, he could take him up to him for the morning. That would give him time to catch up on the news, would help him readjust to the world. But not the whole morning - he would just be occupied with that, wouldn’t be able to think about it during lunch or the training. Maybe he should send him down to Jean - he could help him prepare the meal - cut vegetables, set the table. A task that would require only as much attention as one might spare it, and all the time to think about what he had learned that Anthony might need.

And in the afternoon ... well, he would still need his rest for a while, but when he got his strength back he might need something to do other than sleep. He would have to think about that ...

A small soft gasp turned his head back to the man and he smiled - the man had finished setting the table and had now caught the scent of their dinner. And while Loki really hated this  _ grub _ he had to admit that it had at least a very tasty odor - something Anthony obviously agreed to.

Grinning he returned to the man that was now sniffing the air with an expression in his face that made it clear he was debating if he had managed to sneak his way into Valhalla.

"I take it you like hamburger?", he asked, smiling.

And became a dreamy look in return. "My favorite food", the other allowed, before his eyes widened in sudden dread.

Sadness filled him that he would still be so mistrusted - but then this time it wasn’t because of  _ who _ he was, but because the other trusted  _ no-one _ .  _ And I do understand. _ He really did. But ... he wanted to be the one person Anthony would look at with trust in his eyes.

Keeping his smile he reached out and put his hand in the smaller one’s hair, playing with it in a way he had found comforted the man. "Then we should ask Jean to prepare it more often." He could endure this for the sake of the other’s shy smile. He had suffered more for to gain less. Really, if it got too much he could still bid Jean to make him something else.

"Thank you." Spoken down to his feet, his small smile hidden, but Loki saw it and felt a satisfaction that did light up his mood again.

"Come", he said, pulling the other gently over to the couch and down onto the cushions. A short walk over to a side table got him the brush he had stored here - rather, he may have forgotten it here last time and Jean always seemed to know what to put back into his room, and what to keep in the room he forgot it in.

"Are you cold?", he asked when he saw the man shivering a bit when he came back, but he just shook his head and tore his eyes away from the brush - not disliking it, but maybe ...  _ liking it too much _ ? Loki himself certainly enjoyed caring for him.

Sitting down on his place he took hold of the glass he had prepared for Anthony - no water this time but some orange juice that he hoped the man liked. By the way his eyes lightened up he had obviously guessed right, and gladly he passed it on to him.

The man drank slowly this time, only taking a few sips before stretching in such a manner that it put his backside on display in a very distracting way and then putting the glass up on the table ...  _ oh _ , he had remembered. That the carpet was supposed to be expensive and he wasn’t to dirty it.

It was expensive. Handcrafted. Made from the wool of a rare race of bunny. Imported from a country Loki hadn’t bothered to remember.

Loki couldn’t care less about that.

But he would still make sure that Jean got Anthony something to cover his place, so that neither the man would get anxious should there be a spot - he may hate  _ eating _ hamburgers even more than hamburgers  _ themselves _ , more so because this was a dish he couldn’t convincingly have Anthony eat out of his hand for the man, as a midgardian, had surely mastered the art of eating it - nor Jean try to decapitate him when he had to clean it.

But in the meantime he would just enjoy the trust the man had so carelessly shown him - not drinking all of the fluid offered to him, moving in a way that had surely others allured to mount him without even thinking about it - and the warmth of him against his leg, him slightly leaning back in the hand Loki still had in his hair even though he shied away from every other comfort Loki would so like to offer him.

It was a beginning. And if there was one thing Loki had, then it was patience.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you liked. Next chapter is going to be Loki's POV again, because I wanted to have something out of the way and Tony's not there to tell about it.


	33. Of plans gone awry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Avengers are called away. Tony emotions. Dr. Jane Foster. Female Loki

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You may have noticed from the summary: things happen.

Loki had had the rest of the day planned out: Letting his pet rest against him, eating these infernal hamburgers, watching the news and then reading a good book, his hands petting Anthony until the exhausted mortal fell asleep under his hands, his sleep for once untroubled by aid of Loki’s charm.

As is so often the case, Loki’s plan was foiled half-way through. And the reason, how could it be anything else, was Thor.

They were sitting there, watching the news, the soft brush sorting through the chaos on the mortal’s head, when the reporter suddenly switched to live news and began about an untypical and, it seemed, man-made storm a good part down the coast. Nothing to worry about, normally - just another super villain trying to blackmail the officials - but this time the normal super hero team - the playmates of this particular villain who called themselves the Fantastic Four - were out of town - out of  _earth_ , to be exact - and of course the Avengers were the ones they called upon to protect the people against this  _Dr. Doom_ (Loki had met the guy. He had started to boast about his new plan to conquer earth, Loki had, bored as he was, pointed out all the mistakes, the man had started to laugh about  _Loki’s_ inability to subdue the Avengers and from this point on it may have evolved into name calling and throwing mugs. Suffice to say, they decided to stay out of each other’s hair from then on).

But the Avengers being called on to defeat Doom meant they were out of town for the night.

And that meant  _Thor_ was out of town, too.

And Dr. Jane Foster was not.

When they first came to New York, Thor and his lady love, it hadn’t been anything permanent. Just a few weeks, and then back out into the desert. But they came back again and again, and like the other Avengers they now had an almost permanent base in the Avenger’s Tower, Dr. Foster working along with Tony Stark - because Stark’s better than bubble gum, he’s been told, though he’s not entirely sure what that means - and Thor being guest professor at the local university (and bouncer or bodyguard whenever someone needs him to be that).

So when he wanted to speak to Jane Foster this was the best possible time.

Looking down at Anthony, who seemed absolutely content to sit there, in the middle of Mary’s best couch cushions, his head leaned back against Loki’s leg, he knew that he couldn’t just leave. His pet was still too disturbed from his nightmare, even though he had grinned and tried to suppress a laugh when he had seen Loki fight the hamburger (he had eventually surrendered, taken the  _dish_ apart - which had both Jean and Sigyn in giggles - and eaten it with fork and knife as a proper meal was meant to be).

No, he couldn’t just escape. But he could maybe speed things up a bit ...

A small noise had him focus back on the man at his feet, whose eyes were almost glued to the screen. Following his look Loki almost swore at his own slowness. Of course - that were his comrades, his friends. To see them again now ...

"Are you okay?", he asked quietly.

No reaction at first, but then he inclined his head a bit. "Yes", an almost choked voice answered.

He let this slide, just laid the brush aside - he had been finished with that some time ago anyway - and used his fingers now, let the warm hair of the other glide through his fingers, reassuring, anchoring.

"They are okay", he eventually whispered, questioningly, and Loki bowed down, kissed his front head. "They are", he conformed. "Every single one of them. Every single one of your friends. Even this woman of yours, and the man in the other suit."

When the rocking began he at first thought that something bad had happened again, more so when the fingers he slid over Anthony’s cheeks came back wet. But when he turned Anthony’s face up, afraid what he would see, he could only see joy in those big brown eyes, and he understood that it was relief, nothing but purest, honest  _relief_ that made him weep, and he just turned him in and positioned his legs so that he was resting between his thighs, his tears hidden behind Loki and the hand he curled protectively around his nape, softly playing with the hair there but otherwise letting him alone to find back to his balance.

After a while he felt Anthony calm down, but he made no move to come out of his hiding place, just leaned his head against Loki’s thighs, his body bracketed by them and his bottom resting on the edge of a cushion.

The charm flowed from his hand as natural as water, seeped as comfortable warmth into the man’s mind while the fingers still carded through his warm hair. When he felt the head droop a bit more, rest a bit more heavily on his legs, Loki knew that Anthony was asleep, but even though he should be going now, before it was too late, he still sat there for a while longer, his fingers playing idle with Anthony’s hair, his stomach full, warmth surrounding him and the soft talk of his friends washing over him, and he didn’t remember when last he had felt this content.

 

?Ä¿

 

It was not difficult to find Dr. Jane Foster at a normal day, and it wasn’t even when Thor was out of town. When there was something that Loki had learned than it was that you should always know the quirks and routine of your enemy, and while no enemy Jane Foster was surely important enough to warrant his attention.

So he knew perfectly well that on most weekdays when Thor was out of town she and Virginia Potts - for Tony would be out of town then mostly, too - as well as sometimes this woman - Maria Hill - and the other one, Dr. Laura Bronson, went out into the bars to drink and dance and mostly to forget that their men were out there, risking their lives for the security of a people that didn’t even know how to thank them (They went out there on every second and fourth Friday night in the month, too, then normally accompanied by Natasha Romanov and Sharon Carter; but that were more happy times, with less gloom and more dancing than drinking).

When Loki stepped into the bar - the third one she visited; she may know which one they preferred, but that didn’t mean she know which one they were going to be at tonight - it wasn’t as s tall black-haired man with godlike proportions but as a slender woman of vague African origin with curly shoulder-length dark brown hair and startling blue eyes in a tanned face, her bosom too slim and her ass not really a danger for the hunting pack. She wore a short blue dress - short by aesir standard, because for all their understanding when it comes to love and sex aesir don’t do clothes that are obstructive in battle or offer no cover - that was hot enough to blend in, but not enough to draw all the eyes to her; for once she didn’t want the attention.

She had chosen the right tavern this time - one that specialist in Australian foods and drinks -, for she could see the women sitting at the bar. Three of them at least - Potts and Bronson and Foster. Hill was in the middle of the dance floor somewhere - Loki caught a glimpse of her through the moving bodies, dancing with a tall blond stranger that would be dumped before the dawn broke. The other girls were nursing their drinks, but before Loki had even reached them another man stood with them, offering the biologist a dance, and that left Loki only Lady Potts to deal with.

Smiling she slid up to the women, doing her best to act as if she hadn’t seen the seat getting vacated only moments before. " Is here free? " , she asked over the music.

The other two looked at each other, obviously undecided, then turned back and offered her to sit down beside them, though Dr. Foster took hold of the drink the other woman had left behind.

Loki turned to gesture to the bartender, then whirled back as if she had only registered the other now. "Dr. Foster!", she screeched in her best imitation of all the girls she had ever heard cheer at Thor.

The woman seemed a bit disturbed - nothing like her brother, but then Thor could only benefit from someone with a more practical approach to life.

"I’m sorry, do we know each other?"

_Yes, we do. Last time we’ve met face to face you hit me fully in the jaw. I’m still sorry you probably hurt yourself more than you did me._ "No, but I’ve always wanted to meat you!", she said, her eyes wide and full of adoration. "I’m at GSAS, physics and astronomy. I always wanted to tell you how much I admire you." Very big, adoration-filled eyes.

Dr. Foster seemed a bit overwhelmed; she obviously wasn’t used to this kind of hero-worship. "Yes, oh ... thank you. I didn’t think anyone would recognize me here."

"I have  _all_ the papers you published in!", Loki screeched, though she turned it down now that she had the woman’s attention. "And I think it shameful that you only got that Schwarzschild-medal  _now_ ! Every dumb idiot could see that you were right about the Einstein-Rosen-bridge, and your work’s worth more than only that!"

Okay, maybe it was still a bit too much, because there came a suspicious look into her eyes. "You’ve read my papers?", she asked.

"Yeah, right from the start!" Not really - she hadn’t been interested in her until Thor had found her, but after that she had started digging everything up about the woman that was there. And she had gained a new respect for the woman to make her way in a world that thought her gender dumb and her theories laughable. "I can’t believe they didn’t support you - I mean, it’s so logical! And Schwarzschild already theorized about it 1916, it was long overdue that the existence of worm holes was proofed!" Not that she  _really_ thought so. From what she knew, aesir had needed more than five hundred years to make their first Bifrøst after they first thought about the possibility of it, and she may have been more than a bit impressed by the woman who made this mental leap none of her peers seemed to be capable of.

When behind her the bartender arrived she ordered smiling - and yes, leaning so as to give him a good view into her cleavage - a Merlot - Silverleaf, whatever that meant, but she found she really liked the taste of red wine, even though the alcohol level was laughable compared to what she was used to in Asgard - before she turned back to her companion for the evening.

At least this proof of her own knowledge - though she actually had to read the wikipedia article to translate aesir words and symbols into human ones - seemed to have soothed Dr. Foster’s mistrust, for she was now looking intrigued. "Which semester die you say you are?", she asked, and Loki scrambled to come up with a correct answer - she couldn’t say her  _first_ , but how much semesters  _did_ one study astronomy?

Luckily Dr. Foster seemed far too excited to wait for an answer. "My intern went back to the university, and I’m lacking for ones that do actually know what I’m talking about."

Exactly what Loki needed -  _another_ full-time job. "Second semester", she said, slowly, the grin that had been spread wide over her face dimming. "I don’t think my professor will let me go away." She made sure to form her face in an appropriate sad mimic.

Dr. Foster seemed equally dejected, but she grinned a bit and scribbled a number on a napkin. "My phone number, should you decide to spend your semester break with me", she explained.

Loki’s grin expanded without her saying so.  _That_ was something she could work with. "Thank you. Really,  _thank you_ , Dr. Foster. You’re my hero!"

The woman grinned, then asked: "So you’re interested in astronomy. What made you turn to the stars?"

And that was the opening Loki had been waiting for. Blushing she looked down in her lap, laced her fingers together and mumbled something that could, possibly, be interpreted as  _Spock_ (she had enjoyed the movies, though she still disliked the series. But Chris Pine and Zachary Quinto, not to mention Zoë Saldaña? Nope, she wouldn’t push them out of her bed; being an insatiable goddess really had it’s pros). 

But she really had to give credit to the doctor - she was quick on the uptake. "Oh, not only you!", she exclaimed, laughing. "Whenever I stopped being responsible, thinking about innovation and peace, and just generally meeting new people, meeting new  _friends_ ... " And her voice, her eyes made it clear that this still was something she thought important. "Then ... then I’ve been dreaming of my own gallant alien prince from the stars, too." A small smile came to her lips, her eyes glazing over.

Grinning Loki returned the look. "And now you’ve found him", she said, teasingly.

And was most intrigued when she snorted and pulled a face. "What one might call him. I’ll admit, I never thought my prince would, you know, grunt, and have problems using the toaster, or hang his hammer at my wardrobe." Her dreamy smile returned. "But, really - I love him all the more for it."

Grinning Loki teased back: "So you’re going to live happily ever after?"

Obviously Thor  _was_ serious with this woman, exactly as she had thought, for the look that now came over Dr. Foster’s face couldn’t be described as anything but troubled, and Loki thought to herself that it must really weight on her heart, and she must have had a lot of drinks to speak about this to a stranger. "I am still mortal, and he is an Aesir. He will live much longer than I’m going to."

Shaping her features into a perplexed expression Loki inquired: "But ... the myths, they speak of Idunn’s golden apples. Isn’t there a way to give longevity to a mortal?"

The eyes became sharp again, and a spark of mistrust returned. "Why do you want to know this?"

Protecting Thor. Protecting  _Asgard_ . Oh, her brother could barely have chosen better. "I’m just curious", she answered, and as she had done when speaking to Anthony about the changes of his body she let magic flood her words, shape the other woman’s thoughts until she wouldn’t know  _not_ to trust her with this information, or ever ask herself why she did in the first place. Though it also helped that Lady Potts had left them to their discussion - swaying someone got exponentially harder the more persons the magician had to enchant. "So, is there a way to become immortal?"

Still she hesitated for a moment before she answered, but this was less mistrust and more personal troubles. "There is, but ... it’s not as easy as it sounds."

That Loki wouldn’t bet against - she knew what it would take to make the woman immortal, and her own role in this. "And if you could get it - immortality. Would you take it?"

And that was the million-dollar-question, wasn’t it? Being immortal seemed like a dream for many humans, but one with such a mind as this Jane Foster might know that it wasn’t all just love, peace and harmony.

And really, the woman looked down into her glass rather than meeting Loki’s eyes. "Maybe ... if it meant staying with Thor ..." She took a deep breath, then downed the contents of her glass before turning to Loki with a resolute expression on her face. "Yes. For him, to stay with him so he will never have to watch me die ... yes, I would do that. Even if it means watching my friends day, and leaving this world." A grim smile turned her lips up. " For him I would even be facing his bastard of a father again."

And yes, this was the woman her brother needed.

 


	34. Coffee

Waking up was ... interesting, to put it mildly. Really, Tony couldn't remember to ever have had this kind of aching muscles, sore enough to send him back down on the mattress with a pained and surprised yelp the moment he tried to get up.

An amused chuckle answered his efforts, and carefully sitting up - this time successful as he was now prepared for his muscles to strike - he found Louis standing next to his make-shift bed, wearing an expression of guilty delight.

"I am sorry, Anthony", he said, and maybe he was, but he still sounded a good bit amused. "Do not worry, today will be rather calm - I will not have you harm yourself." He stretched his hand out, slowly brushing it over Tony's hair and pulling a strand behind his ear.

Maybe he should have been offended by this, but he found himself leaning into the affectionate and so fast familiar becoming touch until the man sat down next to him on the mattress.

They sat like that for several moments, Louis petting him and Tony just reveling in the attention, the care given to him, the  _comfort_ and  _safety_ that this gave him, until his growling stomach reminded them both that it was time for breakfast. Smiling Louis got up on his feet and then held his hand out to help Tony up.

He hesitated for but a moment before he took it, letting himself be lifted up on his feet - and really? He needed the help with the way his muscles were complaining about it.

The way to the bathroom could as well have been a marathon, but he managed it and then let himself be subjected to another thorough cleaning that ended with a long stay under the hot water of the shower, the heat slowly relaxing his muscles. Louis gave him all the time he needed, sitting on the rim of the tube and looking through the shampoos and shower gels he possessed while he waited for Tony to get ready.

It reminded Tony of being hung-over and having Rhodey there to mother-hen him. Just without the cursing and the threats and the demands that he's never again going to drink this much again - he's never given that promise, always pretending to be too ill to do so.  _If I ever get out of here I’ll give him this damned promise, and I’ll damn well keep it. I wouldn’t be in this kind of trouble had I listened to him._

He did end up in a fluffy blue towel, Louis carefully rubbing him dry - he was avoiding every bruise as if the spots were branded in his memory.

"How are you feeling?", he asked as soon as Tony was dry and his teeth were brushed - that's something else he would never before have counted as luxury, but having his own tooth brush, being allowed to take care of his dental hygiene? Not feeling as if his mouth was furry, or smelling his own bad breath? Luxury. Pure luxury.

Tony felt good. Much  _much_ better than he would have expected. "Okay", he answered, stretching his back in a move that stung far less than before his shower.

Louis smiled and led him out, down into the kitchen where Jean was already up, preparing pancakes and bacon and scrambled eggs while Mary sat at the table, consulting a small book and marking things with blue and yellow pencils.

When they came in she looked up, smiling. "Wouldn't have expected you to be up this early.", she said, her smile becoming even warmer and a devious spark appearing in her eyes when she focused on her employer. "I didn't hear you come back  _yesterday_ ."

Louis had been away the night? Tony couldn't decide what to make of the pang of ...  _something_ that he felt at the thought. It shouldn't worry him when Louis was away. When he wasn't here he couldn't hurt him.

But he also couldn't take care of him.

_And why would you want him to take care of you? It's not as if you need the guy._

He almost missed Louis' relaxed replay. "Less yesterday, more today", he confirmed chuckling her suspicion, and there was something in his voice that Tony couldn't place - something soft,  _caring_ under all that amusement that made his stomach drop.

He didn't question it -  _couldn't_ , for Louis now looked  expectantly at him; he was supposed to sit down for breakfast. Slowly he went to his knees, trying to ignore the way his bones cracked, and he felt gratitude when Louis' hand steadied him at the shoulder before sitting down himself, and he leaned into the hand that began idly carding through his hair, losing himself in the affectionate touch.

Though when Jean began to distribute plates he couldn't help but ask: "Where's Sigyn?" Because they had never begun eating before all of them were here.

_You’ve been here three days. Maybe eating together isn’t normal for them, and now they know that this unsettles you._

Louis looked surprised, then his face closed off in that way Tony began to understand meant he was trying to figure out what, and in which way, he was going to tell Tony. "I am expecting a guest this morning", he said then, and Tony felt his heart begin to race, his breath rate to pick up speed, his vision whitening out in panic while his mind went into hyperdrive -  _someone else_ in the house,  _again_ ? Someone like Lee who would understand, or more someone like the guests his previous owners had invited ...? Would he be hurt, or comforted, or ...?

_Didn't matter._ He didn't want  _anyone_ else to see him this way right now. Lee had been okay, but that didn’t mean - oh please,  _please_ ...

Little gasps fell from his mouth, and he clenched his hands to keep himself in the present, tried to control the panic that overwhelmed him with cold shudders and not enough air -

"Peace, Anthony." The softly voiced order was accompanied by a warm hand running through his hair. "He will not see you. He's only invited in my office, and Jean and Mary are in need of your help making these ...  _Christmas cookies_ anyway. _He will not see you_ , you don't have to fear that." Only when the words sank in, when he slowly calmed down, Louis continued: "Sigyn is out there, making sure that we will know when he arrives."

Maybe he really became too used to this kind of behavior, but the scratching fingers on his skin, in his neck, the calm voice managed to stifle the panic attack before it even fully began - something that even Pepper and Rhodey and the best doctors they had managed to drag up between the two of them weren't able to this smoothly.

Slowly, _very slowly_ , he came back, his mind focused on the fingers playing with his hair. That hand was a reminder - Louis wouldn't hurt him. Wouldn't  _let_ someone else hurt him. He was  _safe_ here.

There were many things he wanted to say, and  _not_ wanted to say.  _Thank you,_ maybe. Or  _I don't want an_ _ yone to see me _ . What he said in the end was: "I'm not good at baking."

Jean chuckled lightly. "You can cut out the cookies if you want. Mary’s stars always look like ugly ducklings."

And even though it was a task that was normally given to kids Tony didn't mind - he  did never  bake cookies with his mom or nannies, and the only two occasions he did were with his grand mere when he  was a very small child - he remembered very little but her playfully scolding him for eating too much of the raw dough, and the warmth of the oven, and the fun he had decorating the cookies with frosting and chocolate - and once with Rhodey's family when he almost set the kitchen on fire and Rhodey’s dad merely laughed and told him to make a cookie-maker for it would be certainly s afer for the world.

It was Rhodey's dad that gave him free reign in his garage to build that thing, and who patiently sat through the tasting of the cookies that thing produced until they were edible when both Rhodey and his mom had given up, telling him to come back later when it was not making coals or salty dough or offending their sensible tongues in other ways.

He missed the old man. Next best thing to a real father he ever had had.

And so he just nodded silently , a small smile on his lips, while Jean’s comment earned him a small laugh from Loki and a playful slap by Mary.

"Do you want more tea?", Louis asked him eventually, and he licked his lips. It wasn't the question that made him nervous but more what he intended to do now. Because ... yes, Louis had told him to voice his requests, but he had never dared ... "I'm more the guy for coffee."

He couldn't help but duck his head, couldn't help but expect to be beaten for his mumbled words even though he hadn't done anything that wasn't allowed ...

" _Coffee?_ " Louis sounded as if the  _word_ was enough to poison him.

Jean on the other hand just laughed. "Oh, come on, Lou. You like how it smells."

At that Mary laughed, too, while Louis groaned. "I still do not understand how anyone can bear the  _taste_ of it, however", he said, disbelief coloring his voice.

Tony slowly looked up again, his breath returning to normal. There was no anger in Louis' words which made him believe that he wouldn't get hurt, or mocked for his preference.

It was Jean who went up to look into the pot - a  coffee  pot, no  espresso machine ; Tony would n't be able to prepare his favorite poison in this house - then said: "You okay with one cup, or do you want more? It's just, I haven’t planned for another coffee drinker, and I'd have to make more first."

A cup for Mary, and one for Sigyn. He was being offered Sigyn's sole cup.

"I can ... it's okay, I don't mind", he said rushed. He should have thought before speaking, not expecting to get a coffee within seconds as he would at home. He had already _seen_ Jean pour the coffee out for the two women.

Jean however just rolled his eyes. "Don't worry, I can make more before Sigyn comes to get her mug. Really, it would be better for her to not drink that much anyway, it's do bitter that I don't even have to  _wonder_ where her bad mood always derives from."

Louis gasped and then shook with suppressed laughter while Mary just threatened Jean with a raised finger (and the guy apologized immediately, saying he hadn't included  _her_ in his words.)

The relaxed atmosphere made Tony accept his coffee more easily, and while it didn't compare to the coffee he got at home he felt fresh and more himself after the cup - well, he imagined it didn't compare to his coffee, mostly because he had the best espresso machine one could own, and some very good beans that one could buy for a small fortune the kilo, but, really? It just tasted like black heaven, like sweating in his workshop and working on his last project, like sitting at the kitchen counter and arguing with the gang (w hoever had stayed over this night and was already awake and not out running around lakes), like hang ing out wit h Rhodey. 

It made him homesick.

As if he had felt this Louis extended a hand, let his fingers play with the hairs in Tony's nape, and he pressed back into the touch. He would have that again. He had promised himself that he would escape, and okay, he had barely thought of it for a whole day but that was only because he first had to get his strength back, and this was a better place to do so than most.

 

?Â¿

 

They went back to Louis' office a few minutes later, and a short motion of the man's hand allowed Tony to - stiff and carefully - sit down amid the papers again and continue his reading while the guy himself continued whatever he had disrupted yesterday for Tony's sake.

It was still difficult to comprehend for Tony. Louis hadn't hesitated to stop working when Tony had needed to get away from this all, when he had needed to distract himself - and he knew himself too good to deny that he would have gone crazy trying to stay calm while still being in this room, not daring to touch the papers again but not knowing what else to do.

Maybe that was the reason he had to take a deep breath before he reached for the last paper he had read yesterday, slowly opening it at the page he had stopped at and searching for the next article.

Or maybe it was the fact that the girl he had dreamed of yesterday, the girl Louis had replaced him with, looked out of a picture at the opposing page, disillusioned and broken and so much like Tony had felt when he had been in her age - an eternal disappointment and without perspective beyond the way others had chosen for him.

He sat there, the desk in his back, and as in the kitchen Louis seemed to know that Tony needed him and his hand came to rest on his head, slowly brushing through his hair and anchoring him.

Continuing to read was far easier after that.

 


	35. rather the reporter in the house ...

Even though mortal and a rather dainty person Dr. Foster could drink away a night, and so she and Loki had parted only in the early hours of the dawning morning.

When he returned to his house, now again in his male body, he found Tony curled around his blanket, only the head and a foot peeking out. Smiling he let his hand stroke over the sleeping body that for once didn't flinch under his touch. His charm kept nightmares away, so being touched wouldn't lead to bad associations, and he would have liked so much to take advantage of that, would have liked to touch him even more, but knew that acting this way wouldn't be in Anthony's best interest.

He let his hand rest on the warm back for a moment longer before he followed the blanket down to the feet, tugging on it to cover the foot again - in his typical contrary manner Anthony tugged his leg in as soon as he had the blanket where it should be, and shifted to the side.

Chuckling Loki left him and removed his clothes, threw them carelessly at the chair ... he was just too tired to tidy up.

Yawning he glanced again at Anthony who was still asleep on his soft mattress before he fell into bed himself, succumbing to sleep within minutes.

 

?Â¿

 

The next morning was quite calm and lazy, though with his charge suffering aching muscles that was to be expected. But a long hot shower seemed to help, and Loki used the time to sneakily look at the body of the man - soft skin and hard angles and ribs where non should be seen, bruises and missing muscles. He remembered that body, even though mostly hidden by skin-tight clothes, and it had been anything but. Good, yes, it had been bruised - he had most often seen him out of his armor when that was too damaged in a skirmish -, but with powerful muscles, and tanned, and the man in it so confident.

Though this part was coming back he found when Anthony actually inquired after Sigyn, and then asked for coffee. He could even forgive the man for liking this bitter poison - he had thought himself poisoned when he had first tried it some years ago - for it meant that he was becoming more himself again.

But there were still moments he feared to lose him, moments like when he sat there drinking his coffee and looking seemingly into nothing, or when his eyes betrayed the abyss that stared back while opening the papers. Having his fingers, his touch being the anchor that brought him back, that gave him the confidence to carry on, filled him with a pride and warmth he could not have envisioned.

 

?Â¿

 

A good while later a discrete knock on his window let him know that his visitor had arrived. The almost translucent nymph must be invisible to the mortal's startled eyes, but Loki could see the fragile body, the fine cloth-like leaves and feathers bound around torso and hiding it's gender, the nimble fingers rattling against the glass as if it was the tree that was it's soul-home.

When it found that it had his attention it screeched - a sound that a mortal would mistake for a bird's cry but told Loki all too well of the anger the spirit held for the visitor that already had breached their defenses once - nymphs were very protective once they had chosen a home, and there was more than just one reason some forests had never been cleared.

But today his visitor had behaved himself or Loki would have known otherwise - there was no way a mortal could circumvent an Asgardian bodyguard, least of all if said guard was expecting him.

Looking down he found Anthony's eyes on him - the mortal was far too intelligent to mistake Loki's reaction for anything but what it was, and the nervous licking of his lips, the hand that played with his hair displayed all too obviously how he felt about it.

Smiling to show that nothing was wrong Loki run his hand down the other's head. "My visitor has arrived. I think it would be best when you depart for the kitchen now." His voice was warm and sure; he did not want him to feel dismissed but rather send away for protection.

Swallowing visibly Anthony nodded, then picked up the papers so they were seated more straightly before he slowly stood - checking to make sure Loki had no objection - and went to the door.

It was only when he was there that a thought occurred to Loki and he said: "Anthony?"

The man looked warily back and Loki gave him the warmest, most genuine smile he could manage - it wasn't hard. "Have fun, pet."

His wide open, intense eyes showed that the shudder that went through the men's frame was not one of fear.

 

?Â¿

 

It took a few more minutes for the man to arrive, and Loki made sure to rid his desk of too suspicious papers, though the spell on the door would disallow anyone but the inhabitants of the house to even be aware of them.

Then a soft knock, and Mary lead the man inside.

He was young, and spirited, and there was a righteousness in his eyes that reminded Loki of his brother and Steve Rogers, but paired with more idealism than either of them carried any more. This was no man that would ever consider work for SHIELD. He was wont to serve justice, not the law or his higher ranking officer, and he would never put the good of many over that of few. No man fit to be king, be it of SHIELD or Midgard or Asgard as his brother was slowly becoming, but noble and honorable and thriving to set right any wrong.

In short, he was the man Loki needed.

"Mr. Parker", he greeted. "It is a pleasure to meet you under different circumstances."  _ When you’re not trying to get me into jail.  _ "I trust you are fine?" 

The young man blushed, hearing the meaning quite well it seemed, but nodded. "I am, yes. Thank you. I hope you're well, too, Mr. St.Marin?" Obviously trying to be civil, and acting more mature than he had when last they met.

Loki smiled - not the true smile he had given Anthony, but it looked honest nevertheless. "I am. Thank you for following my invitation." Then he nodded to the chair in front of his desk. "Please, sit down. Coffee? Water?" It was always better to be polite when you wanted someone to do something, and Mary was waiting to get them refreshments by the door anyway.

"Erm ... Coffee would be cool, yes." Nervousness. Good; it would make it easier to deal with him. "And, really, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have assumed ..."

"It is a reporter's job to think what no-one else does think. And a scientist's as well, I have been told. As you are both I do not think ill of you for acting the way you did." He could have been a scientist. A famous one even, like Dr. Jane Foster, or Tony Stark, or Bruce Banner. Had he had the resources, or the backing of the army, or the determination and time to get sponsors. But a man like him, who spend his free time divided between the woman he loved and saving the city he lived in had neither, and in truth Loki thought that becoming a reporter that could sniff out any scandal and make it heard by the whole world - and Peter Parker might be young but his name was becoming ever more known - was more suited to his duty bound nature, even though the curious mind and the scientist's way to think served him well in this, too.

"Thanks again", the man said. Then asked, looking down at his hands: "I admit - when I left my number with your PA I didn’t think you would call."

Neither had Loki, had he imagined this to happen, but it suited him well enough now. "I ... stumbled upon something I need help to solve, and you seem to be the best man for this”, he said, his voice reluctant and a bit unbelieving - enough to convince his one-man-audience, hopefully.

The man looked up, more than a bit wary, and Loki reminded himself that he had to treat with utmost care to protect both himself and the ones he called his. He could not be too careless, or Parker might just take matters in his own hands and that would be a disaster he could not remedy.

"But first", he said, slowly. "First I need your word that you will not speak about what I am going to reveal to you now, not without my leave ... and the other person's that is involved in this." This was important. Parker had to know that Loki took Anthony serious. That he would not make decisions like this for him when it might mean hurting him with it.

A scowl appeared on the man's front head. "Why?", he asked, mistrust clear in the bright eyes. He still hadn't fully shaken off the belief that Loki might be a bad person, and the black-and-white-way to see the world had Loki almost smirk in glee - he had never encountered a true black, or white person in his life, for even Odin he remembered as a kind father (once, before he became an avatar and Balder did not) and even Idunn had nasty habits when it came to those she did not approve of.

But of course Parker would not think so, would be wary of attempts by Loki to use him.

So Loki sighed as if he did not know all this and explained: "Because it may hurt the one I try to protect. Give me your word of honor, Mr. Parker, and I give you mine that I will not abuse it."

An oath, spoken to a mere mortal man, given for the sake of another. He had really fallen deep.

But it did reassure the other even if he had no notion what an oath meant to an aesir, or someone raised to honor their ways.

"Okay", he said. "I won't tell anybody." Then his eyes slitted and all this intelligence he so often saw sparkling in Anthony's eyes was shining in them as well. "You said there's someone else. Who?"

Loki took a deep breath, then decided to first tell his story. From what he knew of Parker he was a man of rash decisions, and he did not want him running down to try to find and free Anthony.

"I ... a few days ago I was invited along by a possible business partner to a ... erm ... an establishment." And he still didn't know why he went, or why he even  _ considered  _ the contract with Moran. Yes, he liked the idea of having access to the contacts of the man, but it also endangered his company. Endangering him and everything and everyone he called his. Maybe he should ...  _ reconsider  _ . There was still no contract, even though they had an agreement of sorts. But there were other delivery companies out there, and many of them with far less potential for future trouble. 

But that were thoughts for another time. "It was a gambling hall, though ..." He searched for a word, the allspeak not helping since it seemed there was no word for it he knew, so nothing to translate it from. "A secluded, secret one - one might say, a gentlemen's club?"

Parker nodded his understanding, and Loki continued.

"I am not much for gambling" he hated it, rather, and not only since Thor had almost lost Fr ey a’s virginity to a random master builder and then proceeded to blame it on Loki "so I soon found myself wandering the house. It seems that with taking me there my acquaintance also vouched for my trustworthiness, for I was admitted to an area I do not think he would have liked me wandering to." This was the hardest part, the most difficult one. He had to sell to Parker - mistrusting, firmly planted Parker - that he was an innocent that had really just stumbled into the wrong company and gotten a sneaky glance of that which lay behind the facade rather than a knowing but uncaring accessory. Luckily, he was the right kind of guy for this challenge. The right kind of  _ tongue  _ . "Maybe it was your articles about me, about how my fast rising must be a product of illegal activities, but they never questioned me when I went into the basement and the ... slave pits." 

He almost,  _ almost  _ held his breath, like an amateur that waited for his audience to fall for the trick or see through it, but he was better than that. And when he saw the man's widening eyes, his slightly opening mouth - he wanted to ask something, question him - he knew that he had to be faster than him, had to overwhelm him fully before he could even begin to question so Parker wouldn't think to question his belief in him later, and so he continued: "The man I am speaking about - that I took from the pits and try to protect now - is Tony Stark." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading. I'm always happy when I see that there are so many people out there who enjoy "Protector".
> 
> About this chapter ... I'll admit I'm pretty nervous.  
> I know that there are a lot of people out there who want Peter Parker to be a part of the Avengers, and those who don't want this. For this story, I'll do neither - Peter Parker/Spiderman will remain a lone agent and reporter that just happens to be a more important side figure in the story. That's also the reason I took some liberties with him (him being a reporter instead of a scientist e.g., though, really, can you imagine him as a scientist who has to watch over a time-sensitive project when an alarm goes off? Yeah, not really happening)  
> Inspired by WynterRavenheart, who asked me when I first introduced "the reporter" (who in my imagination then neither had a name nor a story) if it was Peter Parker. I wasn't really planning to do that, but the thought settled and grew ... and here we are.


	36. cooking

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, bad title, but I couldn't really find a better one. Hope you like this one, I actually wanted something else to happen in here, but it just went on and on and then I reached the end, so it's going to happen in the next Tony-chapter.

It felt strange to wander the house without Louis or at least Sigyn with him. Not bad, per se, but ...  _unsettling_ , as if he lacked a presence beside him that steadied him, anchored him. 

It also meant  _other_ thoughts came back to him.

Thoughts of ignoring the command given to him, of sneaking to the door, taking one of the coats hanging there and then running through the gardens as fast as he could. Maybe looking through some of the drawers there first - most people kept some change there, and then he could call the Avengers as soon as he left the house.

_Scrap that_ \- he could slip into the saloon and use the phone there to call SHIELD. Even if he did not know where he was SHIELD would find out the owner of the number that had called their secret connection.

A light breeze blew up from downstairs, barely enough to raise goose bumps on his arms and send a shiver down his spine while there was faint creaking somewhere in the house and he heard the faint noise of human voices.

He was still standing there, halfway down the stairs. Not down through the door. Not in the saloon. On the stairs and hesitating as if he waited for a sign from above, from anywhere, really, to tell him what to do.

Maybe it was a sign, or simple coincidence, but in that same moment he heard the front door open and Mary's voice talking.

Welcoming the stranger that was here to visit Louis.

The stranger Louis wished to keep Tony hidden from.

Would he help Tony escape? Or would he hurt him? Or even worse, drag him back to his master, laughing at him and at Louis for being such a nice owner to allow him such freedom, such comfort, leading to Louis being less lenient, much harsher with him?

He couldn't decide if it was really conscious thought or simply instinct that had him running down silently on bare feet and slipping into the kitchen.

Jean was already there, smiling when he looked up though he raised his brows when he saw in which state Tony was in - heavily panting, his face flushed and his eyes big and hounded. "Let me guess - he couldn't detach from you?", he said dryly.

Tony licked his lips nervously. That wasn't what had happened, not exactly.

Though Jean didn't seem to be so interested in the answer, or was maybe too insightful to expect one. "You've come just right", he said, gesturing with the hand that did not held a messbecher full of sugar. "Mary's gone to see to the guest, and I need someone to look after the butter."

Tony glanced over to the stove that Jean pointed at and saw a small pot sitting there, a big piece of butter in it slowly melting.

"Just watch it and stir it when it begins to melt. Tell me when it’s  liquid ."

Tony nodded. That sounded like something he actually should be able to manage.

The butter was almost done when Mary came back and smiled upon seeing him. "Anthony. And I wasn’t sure he would remember to let you come down. Did he at least remember to offer you something to drink?" Of course he had; the same bottle of water he got offered every morning together with his antibiotic.

Upon his nod Mary turned to the coffee machine and offered: "I'm going to make coffee for Lou's guest anyway. Would you like some, too?"

_Coffee_ . He'd probably get a caffeine-shock when he drank another cup after this long time of abstinence. "That would be nice, yes."

A gurgling noise brought his attention back to his task, and when he found that he had almost cooked the butter he blushed and asked, helpless what to do: "I think it's done?"

Jean was beside him in a moment and took the pot from the stove, stirring it again for a moment before pouring the contents in his own bowl. "Well done. From what you said I thought you the kind of guy to burn water", he said laughing while he switched on the  kitchen machine .

Tony blushed even deeper. That ... was a not so incorrect assumption, he had to admit. "I’m really not good in the kitchen", he mumbled, embarrassed.

"Yeah, and I'm rubbish in a lab. I almost failed school twice because of chemistry, so I think we're even." He grinned back at Tony before checking once more that everything was as it should be.

The reassurance caught Tony off-guard. He had always gotten good-naturedly mocked by everyone - most of all Pepper - because he was hopeless in the kitchen. Not that he minded, but that  _Jean_ \- who was a  _god of food_ , as far as Tony was concerned - would just laugh his inability to cook off was ... kinda sweet. And unexpected.

He caught himself smiling about it and quickly tried to suppress it, though he basked in the warmth that the praise - and that was it when Jean had compared his cooking skills to Tony's mechanical - spread within him.

"Anthony could melt the chocolat e", Mary suggested to Jean. And to Tony: "It's almost the same as with the butter, just in a  water bath ."

"And much sweeter", Jean added, grinning, then pulled a package out of the cupboard as well as a casserole. By the time he was finished setting it up - filling the casserole with water, putting a second pot filled with a large pile of dark chocolate inside it - Mary put a mug of coffee next to Tony on the counter.

"There you are", she said, smiling, then took the tray with a second mug of coffee and one with camomile tea as well as a plate with cookies and left to take it upstairs.

Of all things it was the camomile tea that irritated Tony the most. Bruce used it when someone was ill, or sick, or needed to calm down.

"He ... Louis doesn't like the man? His visitor, I mean", he asked on a hunch.

Jean shrugged while he went back to add floor and milk. "Don't know. Never seen him before."

"He didn't want him to see me." It was a statement, though they both knew he was fishing for more information.

But Jean only shrugged again. "Lou likes you. I think he sees you as one of his strays." The perplexed look Tony gave him made him grin. "Like me and Mary, and Dr. Lee. He's seen us, took pity on us and then took us in. I think it's the same with you, so don't worry, he's not going to do something to you that you won't like." A shake of his head and a laugh. "At least not as long as you're not doing something that's going to end up hurting you." And there was so much anguish in this statement that Tony just knew there was a very painful story behind it.

A story Jean probably didn't want to share with a stranger like Tony (though he was burning with curiosity, now that he was allowed to indulge her again without having to fear - much). Instead he stirred his chocolate and asked: "What do you mean,  _strays_ ?" For Jean didn't seem like a slave like Tony had been ...  _was_ .

The smirk he got in reply was both grateful and  mischiev ous . "Lou literally stumbled over me in an alley. He took me home, put me in a bed and when I woke up and thought to thank my savior by preparing breakfast for him he all but held a knife at my throat so I would sign a contract as his cook." Laughing he went on: "Not that I was having anything better to do, or that I ever had reason to regret it." The last said in a lower, softer voice and accompanied by a smile that told of his true feelings.

"You like him", recognized Tony surprised. Yes, he had been aware that this was no normal boss-employer-relationship, bit he hadn't been aware that ... "He's your friend."

Jean shrugged with his shoulders, almost loosing grip on the dough he now took out of the bowl. "Maybe. As much as he allows it, at least." Then his eyes sharpened and he said, rushed: "Watch out, the water!"

Turning back to his chocolate Tony found that the inner pot had slid down and was almost deep enough on one side to let water in. Hurried he straightened the pot and held it while he carefully continued stirring. "Sorry", he said. "I told you, cooking's not my thing."

"It's not so bad", Jean said. "The chocolate's going into the dough. Would be worse if you had done it to the coating."

Even though Jean was not scolding him for it Tony felt determined to do this right. Everyone could melt chocolate in warm water, and he wasn't  _anyone_ but the one and only  _Tony Stark_ . For him this should be child’s play.

Still, it felt good to see the chocolate liquid and without the slightest drop of water mingled into it being stirred in the pot. He felt ... warm, happy. Proud of himself.

Even more so when Jean looked it over and called it good.

Mary had come back a few minutes ago and now showed him how to cut peppers while Jean added the chocolate to the next dough - Tony had gotten a look into the fridge while he opened the door to deposit the last one in it, and there were at least four other doughs, rolled together and dumped on a plate; he began to understand while Louis seemed to think the too of them might need help.

"Do you make so much cookies every year?", he asked.

Mary looked up from her tomatoes, a broad smile making her eyes sparkle. "Oh  _yes_ . You wouldn't belie ve how fast they are disappearing, dear."

"Between Lou and Sigyn we can be grateful to get crumbs", Jean chuckled. "They are  both  eating like  a horse ."

Having sat with the both of them at a table - so to speak - for three days now Tony believed this at once. "And you think a salad’s enough for lunch?" Because he couldn't see anything else being prepared, and lunchtime was approaching rapidly.

Jean threw the dough in his hands up in the air, grinning. "Thank god they don't believe in lunch." At Tony's frown he explained: "You haven't noticed? On Asgard it seems the main meals are breakfast and dinner, and lunch is normally just a small snack. Depending on what they are doing they may add a late snack late in the night, but  _lunch_ ? From what Sigyn tells me they are far too busy fighting or working or ... whatever else they do up there to eat during the day. What do you think why they're fighting after lunch when every sensible human wouldn't stray from his bed?"

That was interesting. Tony had never seen Thor eat more or less at a certain mealtime, but he had also never tried to take note of it beyond  _much more than anyone else except Steve_ .

"So just a salad?", he asked, a bit disappointed. It seemed his stomach had become accustomed to being filled again.

But Jean laughed. "They can be ascetic all they like, but I'm not going through the day on a bit of lettuce. Don't worry, there are some steaks in the fridge just waiting to be roasted."

"He wouldn't let you starve again." The warm small hand on his wrist soothed the cold that filled his insides by Mary's words. And the next line was clearly added to bring him back from his dark thoughts.

"Didn't you want to drink coffee?"

Startled and a bit guilty Tony looked at the mug that still sat beside the stove. He hadn't even taken a sip from it.

"I ... erm ... like my coffee cold? It's like ice coffee, just warmer. You only have to add blueberries and milk and a bit of cinnamon and it's tasting fan-fucking-tastic." So okay, he had made this up while being too wrung out to care what he drank, and he had added a bit of Pepper's marzipan-liqueur, but it shouldn't be this different, no?

At least Jean seemed prepared to give it a try for he pointed at the freezer and said: "Blueberries are there, if you don't mind them being frozen." The sparkling in his eyes betrayed how much he was enjoying this.

But Tony was feeling for once like himself again, not fully but so  much more than he could remember, and he just followed through, took the blueberries that Mary took put for him and added them and cinnamon and sugar and milk - and a bit of  spray cream , because cream was like alcohol (everything tasted better with it) - and then drank his creatio n with great pleasure.

Mary and Jean looked both as if they weren't sure to believe his delighted moan.

"Cold coffee."

Tony grinned and offered him the mug so he might take a sip - which the man immediately did.

Just to blink surprised. "Sweet, but, okay, doesn't taste this bad. Mmh ... might taste even Lou ..." He grinned. "At least if I don't tell him that it's coffee in there."

Mary laughed. "You're  silly , Jean. You know how he reacts to coffee."

While Jean almost fell under the table in remembered glee she explained to Tony: "He really  _really_ hates the taste. From what he tells he must have thought himself poisoned the first time someone offered him a cup."

Tony felt his stomach tremble, then his chest, then the warm, wonderful joy escaped him in a loud huff, closely followed by another, and then he began to laugh, to really laugh, free and loud and uncaring, and it was an amazing feeling.

 


	37. Peter Parker vs. the Silvertongue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really am sorry for the delay. RL is still a bit too demanding for writing

Parker sat there for a moment, obviously out of his depths. "Tony Stark?", he asked, stunned. " _The_ Tony Stark?"

"I do not think the world would have enough room for another ego that big", Loki replied in a dry voice, then added more thoughtful: "Though not so big at the moment. Mr. Parker, I want to be honest with you"  _Said the lie-smith to his prey. Asgard's warriors would be laughing at Parker for even considering trusting me._ "I do not know what I shall do. I just ... I just feel deeply that I cannot let Mr. Stark go."

"What do you mean, _you can't let him_ -"

"Please, let me explain." A deep breath. "The condition I found him in was ... unstable. Under normal circumstances I would have brought him back to his friends and family and told the police everything I know." _I wouldn't bet on this._ "However ... the circumstances are not in our favor. I fear that ... I fear that, if I set him free, he will be hunted for his knowledge by his past abductors and the press alike. The first ones to silence his tongue, the latter ... you know best why, and I think you can imagine what the stress of running would do to him. Tony Stark is not what one might call a unknown."

"And you think keeping him here would be better." It sounded only half like a question, more like a mistrusting accusation. But he hadn't immediately left, stayed here to listen to Loki's words, and that meant Loki had already won - he had yet to meet a person he couldn't talk circles around.

"He is safe here, and already much improved. I am aware that I cannot offer him proper psychological treatment, but he knows that he is safe here."  _Or is it at least learning._ "To move him now, while he is still in danger ..." Loki took a deep breath, knowing he came across a bit uncertain but determined when he looked up in his guest's eyes and continued: "I could only get one person out of this pits. I choose Mr. Stark because I think a superhero deserves better than being huddled at someone's feet, begging for scraps, but there are others there. If I go to the police now they may find them, and maybe even a few more, but -"

"But there are other customers out there", finished Parker his sentence and he had to use all the self control learned during centuries of sitting next to Thor's friends and listening to their boasting or complaining (often about pranks Loki pulled they never even realized were pranks or that Loki was to blame for them) to keep from showing the glee he felt - there weren't much things in all the worlds that could compare to pulling a coup such as this successfully.

"And the slaves they bought", he confirmed instead.  _"And I want them all to face justice."_

Maybe he expressed too much of his anger for Parker looked a bit irritated for a moment, his hands instinctively flying up as if to ward him off, but he didn't comment on it.

Though that might be because Mary chose this moment to come in with their coffee and tea, which she dutifully and silently put down at the desk, adding a small plate with cookies - not the ones they made at the moment but ones Loki liked nonetheless, with a coating of honey and almonds to sweeten them.

After she left Loki waited for Parker to continue, which he did after adding milk and sugar into his poison and taking a sip to make sure it was drinkable. "What makes you think I'm able to find them?"

_Because you are Spiderman, and aside from SHIELD that makes you the best spy I can set on this task. And SHIELD-spies_ _ tend to ask too much questions I don't want them to ask. You on the other hand already dug around in my past and didn't come up with the juicy bits, so less risk with you. _

Of course he couldn't say this.

"The Kellermann-affair. When you are able to find out about the hidden machinations of a senator and his advisers, and getting your hands on enough proof to get them in jail, I have faith that you are capable of doing so again with a couple of rich chaos-be-damned arseholes, too, more so since I can give you a track this time." It was mostly a matter of observing the Mistress' house (a task he had Rogue' men already set on) and following her guests home to find out which ones were involved in this (which needed a bit more intelligence and insight than he trusted the mob, hence Peter Parker). 

The other man's jaw worked a bit, as if he was talking to himself, then he was up and moving - restless like Loki himself.

He let Parker roam in the room, just watched as he glanced at the shelves, the windows, the mirror. As he eyed the pile of magazines on the floor and obviously came up with an explanation he didn't like, for he brusquely spun around and fixed Loki with a glare. "I want to see Stark. I want a prove that this is true."

Which Loki had expected, but did still not like. "You can see him", he allowed. "But I cannot allow you to speak to him. Please, before you jump to conclusions" And the way he had opened his mouth, had been only moments away from leaping at Loki told him his guest already had, "I cannot allow you to talk to Stark because he cannot know you have seen him. We ... already had a visitor here yesterday, a doctor I know to trust, to check his injuries, and it has unsettled him greatly. When I told him that we would get another visitor today I had to promise him you wouldn't meet him." He looked down - it was unsettling for him to feel like he betrayed Anthony's trust by speaking this way about him with Parker. "I ... he does not know that I am telling you this, or who you are. He does not even know that I summoned you to help me help him. I do not think he would take it in a good way that I have spoken about him with you, but I do understand your need for knowledge." He looked up again into Parker's eyes. "I will show you that I am speaking the truth about Stark, and I will give you the address I picked him up at, though I cannot help you enter or reach the basement where she keeps them - I trust you will be able to do that yourself." Spiderman shouldn't have much problems with that.

And indeed Parker didn't ask for more while he slowly sat down again. "So just to get this straight - you want me to find out who the customers are, and then?" He sounded as if he didn't trust Loki to do the right thing.

Smart man.

"And then go to the police. Though I would prefer it if you give me a heads-up so Stark might decide if he would like to be on the list of victims, too, or just return in silence to his home." For even the best policemen could be bought, or the best fire wall breached, and it should be Anthony's choice if he wished to risk being found out and potentially getting his story into the papers. "I would also greatly appreciate it if you kept quiet about his whereabouts and what happened to him." This time he didn't bother trying to keep the threat out of his voice.

"Don't worry, man, no-one's going to hear a peep about this from me." Parker seemed a bit worried when he held his hands up this time, trying to  placate him. "I'm no arsehole, I try to help people." He sighed, settled back on the chair and sipped again on his coffee. "You said something about an address?"

Grateful that the man was so practical Loki took a notepaper - unmarked, something bought by thousands of people, impossible to be traced back to him - and wrote the address in a small script that was more his normal hand than the flowery writing he usually used to sign contracts. "Here. It is a villa surrounded by a big garden and high stonewalls. The neighbors keep pretty much to themselves, so you will not have to worry about someone calling the police should you decide to break in, but the security is good. There is also another entrance, underground, for the cars a good bit away." He wrote another address before nudging the paper across the desk.

Parker didn't pick it up but looked warily at it. "That's a lot of information about a house you visited only once."

It was, but it was also a good way to introduce other means of help Loki had at his disposal. "I had someone go back to find out as much as possible about the house and the owner. It seems she left the country a few days ago, but I suspect she will be back before long." He curled his hair around his finger in a deliberate show of nervousness before admitting: "It seemed like a good move to find out as much as possible about her."

Parker returned his gaze, then took the note. "Yes, probably. But it might be better to stay away now before someone takes notice of your man - that would just increase the risk for me."

Loki nodded. There wasn't much else Rogue's men could do for now, and he didn't want Parker to accidentally find out which kind of men he had employed for this. "I will call them back", he consented.

"Good." Parker stood up. "N ow to Tony Stark."

"He should be in the kitchen", Loki told him while getting up himself. "There is a glass door leading outside, if that is alright for you."

The man hesitated for a mom ent, then nodded, and let Loki lead him out of the office and then downstairs to the wardrobe. Mary must have heard them because she came out of the kitchen but Loki just shook his head. "I will lead Mr. Parker out, Mary. Stay in the warmth." She was active, yes, but coldness pained her joints, and so she smiled gratefully to be able to go back into the warm kitchen.

When they left the house - Parker in an old gray parka, Loki in a white pelt coat that was  _absolutely_ synthetic (or are there animals on earth wearing a bright green coat?) - they turned right around the corner. Clouds had appeared on the sky in the meantime and hid the sun, so it was darker outside than usual for this time of the day - probably a storm approaching judging by the lead-colored heaven. But it would hide them better, and the bright light from the kitchen helped them find the right window.

Inside Jean was fighting with a lump of dough, while Mary accepted a bit of pepper held up to her by a shyly smiling Anthony. Even through the window and distance it was easy to tell that he had been to hell and back, with the worried lines around his eyes and his sunken-in cheeks, but the smile was genuine and his eyes sparkled brightly.

A soft noise shifted his attention back to the reporter. "Why's he not wearing a shirt?", he asked, and suddenly Loki felt both a fool and immensely grateful. A fool, because he had forgotten how civilized Midgardians thought about nakedness, and grateful for the simple fact that the long wax-table-cloth hid the fact that not only Anthony's chest was unclothed. Not to mention that the collar was bespelled to be invisible to outsiders as he did with everything he considered personal.

"He has a severe burn on his back, and a panic attack lead to him getting a few more scratches and reopening several of the old ones." Actually he would have thought Parker would complain about them first, since they were so brightly red against his pale skin. "Wearing a shirt chafes his lacerations and hurts him."

"That's why you called the doctor you mentioned?"

Loki was impressed that the man remembered that, though he shouldn't have been since he had worked with the press all his life. "Yes. We had to make sure his injuries didn't get worse."

Parker nodded, then turned back - and Loki thanked the almighty chaos and whichever power was responsible for his luck, too, for only a moment later Anthony stood up to throw the rest of the peppers into the waste bin. All that smooth uncovered skin would have been difficult to explain.

But so Parker remained blissfully unaware and if his parting words were anything to go by Loki had won a new ally, even if it was just for Anthony's sake.

 

 

 


	38. Coffee vs. Coffee - a sign of trust

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thought you might like another chapter ^-  
> Also - thank you for all your comments. I'm always happy to read them, even if I'm a bit slow answering them

They were almost finished, both with the dough – Jean would begin with the cookies right after lunch - and the salad. At the moment Jean was frying steaks -  _and god,_ the smell made his stomach grumble aloud even though he had had plenty to sample through the meal-preparations; it was good that the visitor had left a few minutes ago or he would have started really digging into the lettuce - and Mary was making a new pot of coffee while he set the table - "So Sigyn can get her portion of bitterness with lunch", as a grinning Jean had put it.

Curious he watched her for a moment before asking: "Why don't you get an espresso machine? It's faster, and the coffee tastes better."

It was fascinating to watch how truly irked Mary could look, while Jean chuckled in the background and did a poor job pretending he was absorbed in preparing the steaks.

"Oh, Mary would never use the perfectly functioning espresso-machine that collects dust in the storage room. The coffee it makes has  _no aroma_ ", he explained - without even  _a trace_ of sarcasm of course ...

"Oh, shut up, you! And I'm right, coffee out of that infernal device tastes ...  _bitter_ ."

Tony tilted his head. "And out of the can it's not?" He had found it pretty bitter, too. Just less of the a ctual coffee-taste and more of what he could only assume was this  _ aroma _ Jean had referred to and that he thought might be the coffee machine.

"Of co urse not! And I don't care what you say, young man, it is  _not_ tasting better." She looked at Jean as if he might dare to disagree.

Tony understood her. He had tuned his espresso-machine three damn months until it made exactly the kind of coffee he wanted. But he had managed it, and to have her proclaim no-one could make her a espresso-machine that produced the right kind of coffee? That just irked his professional pride.

"This espresso-machine – can I see it?", he asked.

Jean turned to him, one eyebrow raised. "Do you think you can change her mind? Because I've tried, it's not working."

"I'm too old to let myself get swayed by such a youth as you, boy", she said, adding another spoonful of coffee before clicking the machine shut.

Tony just grinned. "Nope. I was thinking more along the lines of changing  _the machine_ until it's making the right kind of coffee."

Jean blinked. "You can do that?", he asked, perplexed.

Grinning even wider Tony replied: "Persuading machines to do my bidding is what I do. There's even a company making them with my name on it. Ever heard of StarkIndustries?"

"Oh", Jean made. "You know, I’ve never thought you made kitchen applications. More, you know, phones and TVs and such."

Tony snorted. "Actually, I make clean energy. The rest is only to get the funding for it." He shook his head. "As to espresso machines and such - yeah, it's more my R&D-staff that works on that, but that doesn't mean I can't do it, too. There's nothing e lectrical in my houses that I didn't make myself. Aside from the lamps and that ridiculous curling iron Natasha uses." His mouth closed with a snap when he suddenly remembered where and who and  _ what _ he was. "Not that I've been doing anything of that lately." He could hear the roughness in his own voice.

The look on Mary's face was one of pity, though she tried to hide it, and he didn't want to look in Jean's for fear of what he would find there. In such moments he preferred Louis even though he was who he was, or maybe because of that - at least he didn't have to worry about being pitied by him.

"Do you want to have the espresso machine?", Jean said, and maybe his voice was a bit strained but Tony choose not to comment on it. He really didn't want to know what he would find should he dig.

Instead he picked a bit of the lettuce out of the bowl and asked "What for?" while he put it in his mouth. It was remarkable how at ease he was with these two when even  _looking_ at the other servants had been a trial while he was anyone else’s supposed property. The way they -  _and Louis_ \- treated him,  _like a person_ , even if he was still naked and knelt on the floor, and Louis effectually ran his life, gave him some self-respect, some certainty, back, and it made him dare things he would never have dreamed of else.

"I thought you wanted to work on it?" Jean turned with a surprised expression on his face. "You said you wanted to tune it so that Mary likes the coffee."

Tony blinked flabbergasted and hastily swallowed. "I ... yes, yes. I do want it. Just, I'll need tools ...?"

Shrugging Jean turned back to the steaks and turned them over in the pan. "I have some, and considering Sigyn's passion for tinkering we should be able to get you what you need. Mary, can you call them? Lunch's ready."

Mary nodded and pressed a button on a small machine next to the door. The gong Tony had come to associate with mealtime chimed through the house.

Raising his eyebrows he looked at Jean who just shrugged. "The house's big. We've been trying with shouting, but when Sigyn vanishes into the garage there's no way she hears it. And Lou flipped when he heard the piep-piep-piep-tone we had before."

A light chuckle told Tony that Louis did more than just flip, but he couldn't ask more for in that exact moment the door opened and the man himself entered.

Jean grinned. "Speak of the devil", he said.

The man returned his grin with a feral smirk. "Isn't this a sign of being famous? To be spoken of?"

"Infamous, rather", needled Jean while he checked the steaks one more time before tilting his head in direction of the table. "Sit down."

Louis followed this order with a mocking bow and Tony suddenly remembered that he wasn't allowed on the chair. It had just felt natural when he had helped prepare the salad - you don't cut peppers or onions on the floor, do you? But would Louis see it this way, too, or would he be angry with him for defying orders?

A hand slipped soothingly through his hair, along his cheek. "You helped, my Anthony?"

He nodded, still sitting on the chair that normally would be Louis', biting his tongue in anxiety.

But Louis seemed to not even be aware that something was wrong, keeping his smile and continuing with his petting. "You helped and nothing burned?", he specified and Tony remembered his own words.

"No", he said, relieved – this didn't seem to lead to him getting punished. And added, because his tongue never knew when to stop: "Jean didn't let me at the stove, but maybe you should skip the salad."

The man stiffened for a moment, and Tony already feared the worst, but then he threw his head back and laughed. A deep rich laugh, so unlike his normal chuckles, or the small laughs he had already heard, but a full-throated sound, accompanied by a relaxed and open expression on his face that made him look  even more beautiful ...

"You are priceless, Anthony. Wonderful. Just don't ever change." The look that he got together with the still chuckled words was warm and caring, not in the least what one would expect in this moment, and then Louis bowed down to him and pressed his lips to his forehead, like one would do to a small child, and it both perplexed and calmed him. 

Blinking he looked up at the other man who just smiled softly at him and then nodded down to the floor. "Then we should taste your wonderful salad, shall we, Anthony?"

Blushing - actually  _blushing_ , as he hadn't done upon praise, and  _never_ over such over boarding praise, for years now - he swallowed. "It's Mary's. I mean, she made it. I just cut the vegetables."

"I think she is comfortable sharing my praise with you, then", Louis smiled, and then helped him get up from the chair and sink down beside it when he used the movement to hide his even more reddened cheeks.

He was still stiff, even more so after sitting in the same position for an hour or so, and when Sigyn suddenly barged in he almost lost his balance. It was mostly the grip Louis still had on his shoulder that kept him upright, and the pained sound he made when the pale fingers dug into his muscles brought a chagrined expression to Sigyn's face.

"I'm sorry", she said. "I didn't want to startle you." She came around and helped Tony settle. It felt strange, having hands on his bare shoulders and not fearing them, but he trusted both Louis and Sign that they wouldn't hurt him - at least not now, when he hadn’t done anything to earn it.

Maybe he could even be convinced that they would never hurt him.

"Are you okay? I'm really sorry, I shouldn't have stormed in this way."

Tony shook his head. "It's okay, you couldn't know I've been trying myself as acrobat.” He smiled up at her and found to his relief that the shame left her gaze. A moment later she squeezed him again before releasing him, and after that Louis let him go, too.

Louis who had seen him act cheeky with one of his servants. After he occupied his own chair without asking first. Oh fuck.

But Louis just chuckled again. "Do not worry, Anthony, you will have opportunity enough to practice your … acrobatical balance with the _Great Snake_ later."

The  _Great Snake_ ...  _ohh_ ... he vaguely remembered that one figure from yesterday that Sigyn had called the  _Great Snake_ and that involved standing on one foot and bending forward almost to the floor ...  _and did Louis just tease him?_

He stared up at the man with big eyes, but Louis just smiled - a bit teasing, yes, but also challenging. Because, really, doing  _anything_ like that today would be a challenge considering how his muscles protested. Actually, thinking about this made him swallow a sudden nausea down - he could only hope that Louis wasn't expecting a better performance than yesterday from him.

"Really, I don't understand you – fighting.” Jean shuddered. "There are better ways to pass the time. Oh, by the way - Anthony agreed to fix the espresso machine."

Both Sigyn and Louis blinked at that, but while the former just asked, almost innocently: "There was something wrong with it?" looked the latter down at him and asked: "Fixing?"

His tone held a caution that both Jean's and Sigyn's had missed.

Swallowing against the sudden lump in his throat Tony explained carefully: "Mary doesn't like the coffee. I thought I could tune it so that it tastes more like her pot-coffee." He could only hope that Louis wouldn’t have an issue with it.

The look he got wasn't that much of a reassurance. "But for that you will need tools, and access to electrical appliances", Louis said slowly, carefully. "Which may also be used to contact SHIELD."

Tony stared. It wasn't that Louis was implying he would escape if he could - that was a given in this situation, and they both knew it. It was the fact that he had thought Tony would try it this way, and Tony himself ...  _hadn't._

Shivering he returned Louis' look, not knowing what to think, what to do. He had thought himself ready to leave, to use every available chance to escape this ... not  _golden_ , but surely  _silver_ cage. But today he had had two chances -  _two possibilities he was aware of_ \- and he hadn't used one of them. Hadn't even  _thought_ of one.

What was happening to him? Why was he acting this way, as if he wanted to stay here?

He hadn't forgotten that he wanted to be free again, did he?

No. He still longed for Pepper, for Rhodey, for the Avengers. For Jarvis and creating wonders. Thought of staying awake until dawn and sleeping till lunch. Of bickering with Clint and ignoring meetings.

Never of Iron Man. Never of womanizing and picking up one-night-stands.

He swallowed again, pushing the fear back in his subconsciousness where it belonged. He wanted to be free, and he wouldn't let -

"But maybe won't", cut Louis' voice into his thoughts and he  _wasn't_ grateful how it distracted him from them. "You may tinker with the machine, Anthony, as long as Sigyn or Jean are there, too. I hope that is to your satisfaction?"

Tony's breath caught; being allowed to build again, to do what he had been put on earth for once again ... "Yeah", he whispered, his voice thick with emotions. "Yeah, it is."

He didn't say thank you; he didn't need to - his voice did this for him clearly enough.

 

 


	39. Conversation over Lunch

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You won't believe how silly I feel putting this out around half a year too late ... (you'll know what I mean at thelast sentence ....)  
> Hope you like

Maybe it was too great a risk. Maybe he shouldn't give Anthony the possibility to run, to call for help. Not as long as this was not in his best interest, with press and the Mistress running around hungry for his blood, not to mention all those villains the Avengers had brought down that would take advantage of his helplessness.

Maybe he should take away the thing that brought a light and happiness into Anthony's eyes that he hadn't seen since ... actually, he had never seen it. Not in person, at least. Yes, there had been happiness in him when he stood next to this Virginia Potts on TV, but in person he had only ever seen the mask, or the grim grin, or the victorious smirk. Never ever a honest to god happy smile.

And he couldn't deny it anymore - what he had said to Parker was the truth: he wanted to keep Anthony so he was safe and could heal. But he also wanted him for himself. Such a contentment as he felt now he had not known for centuries, not since first realizing the truth behind his parent's lies, and he never wanted to lose it.

_ But you will. Because being kept here will not allow Anthony to fully heal, to become the man again you so often search for desperately in his eyes.  _

_ Stick to the plan, and you will get both. _

Or at least he hoped so.

Trying to distract himself he looked at his pet who had stopped eating after a bowl of salad and a steak - it wasn't as much as he himself had eaten, but it was still more than he should eat before an exercise such as what as he was going to go through now. On the other side Loki was very happy that he was eating, and asking for seconds, without hesitation now. If not for his fear how the fragile mortal body would react he would have offered Anthony more by himself.

Well, he could still feed him some cookies after training, or after he had slept. Come to think of it, Sigyn would probably take him down to the garage to work on the poison-brewer and since she was as protective of him as everyone else in this house he had little doubt she would take him through the kitchen - where Jean and Mary would slip him still warm cookies themselves.

Sigyn looked up in this exact moment and asked, grinning: "So, wanna go master the  _ Great Snake _ ?"

A small noise escaped from the man beside him that Loki might have called startled surprise in anyone else. "I'm never gonna be able to master it. Are you even sure it's even possible for humans - without turning into supersoldiers, I mean?"

The mix of exaggerated suffering and cheekiness startled a laugh out of Loki. "You want to tell me that you can balance a very heavy armored suit, but not yourself?" So yes, he imagined that the suit was powered and that Tony didn't have to do the whole balancing himself, but then he had seen him stumble, so there had to be some human input involved.

The look he received for that statement was ... odd. As if Anthony was trying to figure him out, but simply couldn't.

"What troubles you, my pet?" The word slipped out much too easily, too affectionate over his lips.

And the man didn't seem to be as disturbed by it as he should, in Loki's humble imagination. He actually seemed to like the way it was said, the warmth, even if he might not like the word in itself. 

"I ... you're not going to ignore who I am, are you?"

Loki blinked. "Ignore ... that you are Tony Stark, one of the richest and probably the smartest man ever of this world? That you are a hero? Anthony, I  _ do _ _ know _ who you are. I just do not care." He shoved his chair back and slid down beside Anthony in a move that should not feel as natural to joints that had refused to bend for Odin or even Thanos. His hand found the man's cheek, and his fingers stroked over the stubble there without a second thought. "It does not matter what you are out there, Anthony. Not to me. In here, you are nothing but Anthony. You will be cared for, coddled and loved. I told you, my pet - here is nothing you need to fear. And I think this is what you want more,  _ much more _ , than being Tony Stark." The last words whispered directly in the ear of the man who was quiet under the warm brush of breath against him, but his lips trembled and his eyes were big - not shiny, not full of tears, but there was an emotion there that Loki could simply not read.

He didn't need to, though, for Anthony bowed his head a bit, a short, almost only hinted at move that made Loki put his arms around the man and pull him against his chest. He practically melted against him, following the move so compliant as if he had waited for it for years.

And he had, hadn't he? Every time Loki had chosen to pull him against himself Anthony had expressed a gratefulness he never would expected, though it was easy to see where it came from - the man had a similar background to Loki himself, with his father a distant uncaring figure and his genius setting him apart from the humans surrounding him. But unlike Loki, he hadn't had the bonus of steadfast friends, of a loving mother, of a spouse he came to know and cherish and have adorable, amazing children with. What friends he had were few, and were met well beyond the age humans carelessly touched each other. And most of them were the Avengers, a group of people who had their own issues and who he kept at arm's length while simultaneously trying to pull them close.

He must be touch starved - no wonder he was such a womanizer while dressing up and giving himself untouchable. Somewhere along the line he hadn't been taught how to request, and accept, loving contact. His life's experiences had barely shown him more than the fleeting caress of a night's lover, and the painful attention of abusers.

Loki did not ask if he wanted to be touched, nor did he wait to be invited. Not when he could so clearly see the need burning in these lost brown eyes. But he also never demanded what Anthony wasn't comfortable giving, and he suspected that this combination was so new to his pet, and maybe the reason his relationship to the woman whose name he so often whispered in his sleep had failed.

The realization made him press the man's head even more tightly against his chest and bury his nose in the vulnerable, trusting neck, inhaling the clean, grounding smell of this man who had learned to ask for everything in his life but for that which was important to him.

In the end Anthony began ... no, not to squirm, but he began to radiate uncomfortableness, and Loki remembered that they weren't alone in the kitchen, and that humans believed touch and feelings something to be ashamed of and consumed in private.

Slowly pulling back from the man he realized that his shirt was not damp as he had been half-convinced it would be. Nor was this man as relieved as he ought to be but rather embarrassed and slightly uncomfortable.

It would take time for him to trust Loki do the extend that Loki wanted him to. Until he was comfortable giving his distress to Loki and accepting the comfort he wanted to offer him.

But till then all Loki could do was lean in, take the sweet face in his hand and look into the brown, so confused eyes, promising again: "You have nothing to fear, Anthony."

And maybe his pet was learning for a smile tugged at his lips and he replied, his voice much lighter than one would expect which reminded Loki again that Anthony had been trained to live in the public eye as much as he himself: "Aside from the Great Snake, at least?"

The words brought a grin to Loki's lips and drew chuckles from everyone else in the room. But it was the fleeting relief and awakening cockiness in the eyes of the man before him that he cared about.

Anthony was still afraid, but he was coming back, and Loki was determined to  _ own him then _ , so that he would never again turn to someone else to be kept safe.

"Since you can't await to face her ..." Sigyn appeared next to them, and Anthony startled a bit but returned her grin when he saw it. "Let's go." She offered him her hand, and after a short look at Loki who just nodded, getting up himself, he let himself be helped on his feet.

"I really wouldn't call myself eager ...", Anthony said, grinning at her in a very distracting mix of shyness and cockiness that Loki found absolutely adorable.

"Oh, not the kind of man to cut her head off?", Sigyn continued to tease, leading them out of the kitchen.

Before Loki could follow them Mary cut in, putting her small hand lightly on his sleeve. "I'll borrow Louis for a minute." Then she turned to him and gave him a look to indicate he should follow her before returning to the table where Jean still sat.

Confused and a bit wary he froze on the spot. Had something happened? Had he overstepped his boundaries when it came to Anthony, and they now wanted to reprimand him for it?

He turned to the door where Anthony had stopped, uncertain if he should follow Sigyn or wait for Loki.

The way he looked so lost made the anger rise again in Loki's chest. He didn't want him to look that way, ever.

"I trust I can let you go with Sigyn without finding you covered in new bruises?", he asked, and the man blushed - embarrassed for a fear that he had no reason to be ashamed of, and Loki swore at himself for bringing the incident up again. 

But before he could say something Sigyn leaned closer to the man and told him, voice lowered as if it was a secret: "Don't worry, I was kidding when I said I was going to eat you. I like my victims young and innocent, and while you  _ are _ still a kid ..."

Anthony made a huffing noise but his lips twitched in a small smile, before he nodded and followed a still grinning Sigyn out of the room.

Loki waited a moment to make sure they were out of earshot before he turned to Jean and Mary which awaited him by the table with expressions that seemed not quite stern enough to preface a lecture.

Unsure what to expect he slit back in his chair even though he would rather wander the room than let himself get caught in a defensive position. "What can I do for you?", he asked carefully. Maybe it wasn't about Anthony at all.

"Loki", Mary began - she suffered the name he got by on earth but much preferred his real one. "About Anthony."

So there went this hope. "I did not tell him anything that should scare him. I just tried to reassure him, to make him feel comfortable." Had they not been his friends, and were he not aware of how much he relied upon their understanding of the human's ways to help Anthony, he might let the beginning anger - so closely interconnected with feeling reprimanded from all the years spend falsely accused throughout his life - rise and color his voice.

So he just looked at them defying.

Mary blinked, then exchanged a look with Jean who seemed at a loss, too. "Maybe he's talking about being the possessive git he is and calling Anthony  _ pet _ ? Pretending he doesn't care about Tony Stark?", he offered.

The obvious lack of heat calmed Loki's anger and left confusion - what else should they want to talk to him about Anthony?

Mary nodded and turned back to him. "You are a git, and I think you should be more careful when talking about his former life with Anthony as you can’t evaporate his past with a few words, but I don’t think you have as of yet done or said anything to harm him with.

No, what we want to talk to you about is Christmas. Christmas presents, to be specific."

 


	40. hot and cold

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really sorry for this delay. I've been moving jobs, and was then on holiday somewhere without internet access ...
> 
> Hope you'll like this chapter - it's twice as long as a normal one because I wanted to end it on a happy thought, and the next chapter is only waiting for editing, so should be up within the next days.

Standing in the basement floor, waiting for Sigyn to emerge with the water bottles she had gone to collect, should have left him feeling cold and alone, abandoned. It certainly would have, a few hours earlier.

Would have left him feeling relieved a few  _days_ prior, before he came to know Louis and the house he kept, came to know that being with someone in power in this house wouldn't end with him being hurt.

It didn't.

Even the bare white walls, the plain concrete floor and the cool breeze raising a few stray goose pimples on his bare skin couldn't still the fire in him. The re-awakened light he hadn't even noticed extinct.

He had always known that his work was what made him happy, gave his life purpose, helped him overcome his troubles and nightmares - not without reaso n had he fled to his lab when his father had once again shunned him out, when he escaped afghan terrorists, when Obie betrayed him, when an alien threat left him with a void he dreaded to fa ll into - but never before had he known what it meant that one's work could be one's life.

Now he knew.

There was a warmness in him, a  _life_ , as if just the thought of tinkering made him come alive in a way that he had not even missed - not when his descent into darkness had been a slow one, accompanied by coldness and hunger and humiliation and the taking of all that other stuff people seemed to think were important for living. No wonder he hadn't noticed how much he had missed this, not even after Louis took him in and provided him with what his body needed. Not until Sigyn took him down to the car and let him help her with it, when he had been content and warm and ...  _light_ . There was no other way to describe it, but he had felt so much more alive then than before, and he felt this now again, just from the promise to do it again, and the thought that maybe,  _maybe_ he would be allowed to fix other things in the house afterwards as well. 

Hell, maybe he should suggest to Jean to build him a better vacuum cleaners - seeing him work with his old one when he knew that there were ways to make them work autonomously left him with a giddiness that was almost painful, even more so  _now_ that his engineer-part had been woken up again. And there were so many ideas he hadn't been able to use with his own hoovers, mostly because he didn't need them with Jarvis overseeing their work in his tower. But he could make them capable of climbing stairs, could give them eyes to see the waste, could 

He could ask Louis if he would allow it. After the espresso machine, and proofing himself to be ... content with his lot? Unable to leave?

Both was wrong, and Louis would know it. So why should he allow him to continue?

_Why should he allow you to do so at all?_

Louis knew of the risks involved with giving him access to technology, and still had promised it to him. Still had given him this hope ...

In just one single moment the cold returned to his gut. He had known that Louis was dangerous, was  _much more_ dangerous than any other of his owners. And he had said that he knew how to take a pet ... what if he used this to break him? What if he promised Tony the only thing that he really needed, just to then reach out, take it away and break him for once and all?

A shiver ran down his spine when he became aware of how successful that would be. Even now, suspecting such a betrayal, he couldn't help but feel bereft, as if he had given his heart to Louis only to have it wretched away with cold calculation.

Stockholm-syndrome, a voice whispered in his mind that sounded suspiciously like Natasha's, but even knowing the reason for his dependence couldn't cure him of it.

But ... just minutes earlier Louis had held him. Had given him comfort when he had needed it, had shown him a warmth even beyond promising him his heart’s wish. Had given him ... oh, fuck, this was so fucked up, but when Louis had pulled him in his embrace he had felt better than even with Pepper, or Rhodey. His father had only ever told him that a boy shouldn’t want for hugs like a girl, and so he had buried his shameful desire so deep down within him that he hadn’t been aware of it himself anymore. Had only grudgingly allowed Pepper to cuddle while his inner self moaned in ecstasy, had allowed James to give him manly hugs from school’s time on while wishing he were given a real one more often.

But Louis hadn’t asked, had only pulled him in, and if that was what he was offered ...he could endure being called  _pet_ (could ignore the thrill that filled him with glorious heat at the genuine affection it was said with, at the implication of care and touch and love it came with from this man), could almost deny himself being Tony Stark, hero and playboy and billionaire ...

And Louis wouldn’t do this, if he didn’t feel anything for Tony, would he? And when he felt affection for him, than he wouldn’t trick him this way, wouldn’t break him?

He already treated Tony as a pet, and Tony hadn’t given him reason to believe he wasn’t one, had allowed him touches and words, and leaned into him and opened himself ...

An almost perverse joy made him choke on hysterical laugher at the knowledge that alone this situation - being bereft of any known and loved human contact, of any friendliness, for many months now and instead being subjected to humiliation and pain, only to now find himself in the care of someone who actually  _did_ care for him and provided him with almost anything he could ask for aside from his lost freedom - had let him find what he had been searching for in vain for Pepper - the ability to absolutely,  _fully_ , give himself over to someone.

Oh, he could  _think_ that Louis might betray him - something he never really did with Pepper -, could feel the fear pulse cold through his veins, but in the depth of his heart he couldn't  _believe_ it. He couldn't guard his heart against a betrayal that might or might not come.

Shivering, waiting with cold anticipation, he stood there in the floor, just awaiting the downfall this still might yet lead into.

 

?Â¿

 

Training after that was ... interesting, to put it mildly. His muscles were still aching, and since he was still suffering the consequences of his enforced ... rest ... working his way through the first two of the Trials was even more difficult than yesterday. Even worse was the realization that sat still heavy as a stone within his gut and pressed on his lung, weighted down his limbs and left him with a difficulty to breathe he hadn't known since the ARC-reactor had been removed.

Eventually Louis allowed him to sit down ... well,  _allowed_ him ... biting on his lower lip and rubbing over where his collar scraped pleasantly over his nape Tony had to acknowledge that neither of them had ever forbidden him from resting when he was exhausted. Neither had made him go on beyond what he was capable of.

Wiping fresh sweat from his brow he continued watching the both of them going at each other with the spear - like yesterday Louis had won the round with the staff, but he seemed a bit more determined to win with the spear today, too - and had to admit that they hadn't given him reason to doubt them. Well, they kept him imprisoned, but then that was what you did with a pet, wasn't it? And had ever someone asked a bird if it wanted to be caged, even though being free would result in it's dead?

_Not that freedom would come with dead for me, so that's not exactly the best comparison, but ... you wouldn't harm your exotic bird, would you? So why should these two aliens harm their human pet?_

A low grunt made him focus on the spar again, where Louis had apparently managed to decide the last round for him, which meant he had won two out of three. A shiver ran over his spine - the man was so fucking powerful, and Tony's coping mechanism shouldn't be being attracted a ridiculous amount to dangerous black-haired muscled caring men - and he watched as Sigyn bowed to him - acknowledging his prowess, his superiority today - and the man turned and walked directly over to him.

There was still a smile lingering on his face, but when he locked eyes with Tony it turned into a worried frown. "Is everything alright, Anthony? You didn't overwork yourself?"

No, definitely not trying to harm him.

Just, maybe, maybe breaking him. As one would break in a stubborn stallion.

_Not that I'm much of a stallion anymore. Or have pride enough to be stubborn._

"No, I'm good." He hadn't done more than one round of the First Trial for starters, a Second to work his muscles, and a First again as cool-down, and even though he felt exhausted and breathless, was bathed in his own sweat and yearning for even more water than the bottle he had already finished could provide he could not deny that he had missed the feeling of having something worthwhile accomplished that had come over him when Louis had nodded to him, his smile approving and proud, his eyes honest. Could not deny the warmth that had almost chased away the heavy cold stone weighting him down.

_Stockholme Syndrome_ , he thought again, and knew again that it didn't matter. Not when his heart was warmed beyond measure by the genuine worry on Louis' face and the half-outstretched hand that hovered a few centimeter in front of his shoulder.

"I'm good", he repeated. Then, because Louis wouldn't hurt him for it  _because he had to believe it or he would go mad_ he held his hand up and gestured with the empty bottle in it. "Could just need another of this." Maybe his smile was strained because he was still struggling with his feelings, or because he remembered that he had uttered this sentence often before, but only ever in relation to coffee, or booze.

Louis blinked and then focused on his face again - searching, always searching for more, curious - before grasping his own bottle, taking a big gulp and then offering the only half-emptied bottle to him. "Drink." Maybe an order.

Slowly, hesitatingly, Tony took the bottle and, his eyes warily trained on the man that had given it to him, that held his future in his hands - had he finally asked for too much? - took a small gulp.

A small smile bloomed around Louis' lips. "Drink", he said again, softer, his hand coming up and Tony was definitely not snuggling in the hot hand that petted his head, strange familiar smelling sweat dripping down on him be damned, nor was he closing his eyes to savor the contact.

And why should he feel bereft when the hand trailed down his temple, fingers fleetingly stroking his cheek and jaw before disappearing?

"Keep it." A last glance, then Louis turned back to Sigyn who in the meantime had taken an axe down and motioned for Louis to do the same. Judging by the look he got on his face not his favorite.

"Sigyn, really?!" Was there a whine in his voice? It was a bit unsettling how fast the man managed to go from loving care to childish begging.

Sigyn, however, seemed to be used to it. A small evil smirk grazed her lips and gave her eyes a dark glaze. "Stop whining and come. We've ignored them for too long, and with you getting better with the spear you need something to keep you on the ground."

"Do not worry, I have never felt the urg e to run around with my head up in the sky." His face betrayed his feelings for this kind of fight quite clearly when he went over to the rack and took up an axe of his own.

The woman just grinned and then proceeded to finish him off.

Tony couldn't even pretend that his heart wasn't jumping up into his throat when he watched them go at it with sharp weapons - and the gleam on their sharpness let him know beyond hope that they were  _ very _ sharp - and an eagerness that reminded sharply on Thor.

It could probably count as mercy that Louis was even worse with the axe than he was with the sword for it made the bouts short and gave Sigyn a superiority that let Tony keep his breath. Still, his heart only stopped beating in ragge d rhythm when Louis eventually surrendered for the last time, his sweaty hair falling right across the furiously blinking eyes. 

"Again", he grunted, a sound so unlike him Tony blinked surprised.

Sigyn just shook her head. "Forget it, my prince. Tomorrow we will continue with sword, spear and axes, but for today I think you had enough. And Anthony might get cold, sitting there."

Seeing Louis' head whip around was almost worth choking on his own breath when she mentioned him, but then Louis reacted further by immediately stalking over to him and taking Tony's free hand in his. It was difficult to tell with his skin always being so much warmer than his own and him being very hot now from the workout - though, really, now that Sigyn had mentioned it he could feel himself getting rather clammy where the sweat dried on his limbs, and his muscles shook in exhaustion -, but Louis uttered a low curse that he didn't catch before saying: "I am truly sorry for forgetting you. I should have known that ..." He shook his head and motioned for him to stand up.

"My thanks, Sigyn, for reminding me."

The woman took the inclined head as her due before smiling at Tony's astonished face. "I'll see you later then, Anthony", she said, her eyes sparkling with mirth - she obviously liked seeing her employer this flustered.

Not that Tony couldn't empathize, but for him the shock of seeing Louis this troubled was a bit ... disconcerting, most of all because, really? He was only a bit cold, nothing to lose sleep over. He had plenty a time been cool, even without some slave owners keeping him in shitty quarters. Jarvis could write books about how often he had had to dial the water temperature down because Tony couldn’t stand his normal hot shower after a night spend asleep in his workshop without a blanket to keep him from the cool he kept there to protect his more delicate experiments from malfunctioning.

"Come." A (hot/big/possessive) hand settled in the small of his back, sending tendrils of heat through him. "We will get you under a warm shower and then you can sleep a bit before Sigyn takes you down to her playground."

The woman in question chuckled before waving them off.

Lead by the hand in his back Tony followed Louis up in his own quarters, wishing fervently for an elevator. Really, even if he wasn't already suffering from yesterday's work-out the exhaustion that now settled over him with force would have been enough to curse the stairs. Staring at the long staircase leading up to the second level he almost accepted Louis' offer to carry him - and,  _really_ ,  _carrying_ him? Was the man serious?

Eventually they reached the right floor - Tony more than a bit surprised that Louis was still there, carefully steadying him, instead of running off alone or just picking him up when it was so painfully obvious that he could have been up there thrice over in the same time - and Louis brought him over in his room. Stripping himself bare took only a few moments and then Tony stood under the hot spray of the shower head.

The heat brought a surprised gasp to his lips before he felt himself relax under the onslaught - it wasn’t  _too_ hot, and it felt good, so very good how the warmth chased the lingering coldness away, how it cleaned him from the sweat and soothed his aching muscles. He could barely contain a disappointed groan when the water flow cut off and he blinked through the water clinging to his lashes up to the man looming over him.

The green eyes were smiling when he looked down at him, all consuming in a somewhat sleepy and exhausted way, and he was much less surprised than he probably should have been to find a chaste kiss pressed to his forehead. "You look lovely, my pet", the silken voice uttered, and the marble shower walls reflected the praise until it resonated deep in his gut, followed by a second line: "You did marvelously today, Anthony. Much better than I could ever have anticipated."

Swallowing he found a sudden lump in his throat and looked down, suddenly unable to meet these eyes anymore. Not that he could see anything but his master at the moment - muscled chest, pink nipples, light barely haired skin all the way down to where within a nest of longer darker curls lay a large ...

Blushing - fuck, he hadn't blushed at seeing a cock for, what, centuries? now - he looked up again just to find himself locking eyes with a rather amused Louis. Embarrassment flooded him. He felt as if all these thoughts that he had had - thoughts of giving in to this man so he would continue to be nice to him, so he wouldn't be as all his other owners were ... thoughts of things he didn't want Louis to do, because he didn't want him to be the same as all these others - as if all these thoughts stood written on his face.

Embarrassed, panicked, he tried to turn away but found a hand - soft, careful, impossible to break away from - holding his jaw.

"Anthony", he said slowly. "You have no reason to fear me. Do you remember? I am not going to take advantage of you."

A shiver ran down his spine - at the reminder how much power this man had over Tony? At the reminder that he had only ever used it to be good to him? - but he felt himself give in to the touch, the voice, fell pliant under the attention.

And Louis took advantage of that in the best possible way, slid a soaped loofah over his shoulders, and Tony to his humiliation heard himself make a low throaty groan. Louis didn't react but instead softened the grip he still had on Tony's jaw and let his hand slide down, over his collarbones to where light-green foam collected - a herbal shower gel today; one he had seen him use one himself before, too - and began spreading it over his chest while still rubbing the loofah all over his skin; the contrast of smooth hot fingers and harder colder sponge enough to ensnare Tony's attention and snap him out of his mortification and dread. Enough to make him lean into the (oh so wonderful) touch, to not resist when the loofah cleaned him carefully all the way down his chest and stomach and legs.

When the touch left him and the warm water returned - now carefully angled so it would wash the soap down - it was almost a shock and he felt his eyes snap open - when had he closed them? - and look at the broad white torso in front of him.

Had he really let his guard down this much? With water in the immediate vicinity?

A shiver ran down his spine, and he instinctively jumped back against the smo oth wall, feeling immediately better when he had something to stead his hasty retreat.

"Relax, Anthony", he heard, even before he felt those intense eyes settle on his face again, and the hand he had come to know this good hovered before his chest before settling, slowly, on his arm. "Do you feel better?"

He nodded - he  _felt_ better, fresh, warm, lose and pliant from exhaustion ... maybe it was that that had let him lower his guard. It sounded at least better than making his growing trust responsible for it.

"Then please wait for a moment, I will finish myself and then you can rest."

Watching Louis shower himself - fast appliance of a herb smelling shower gel then equally fast rinsing off of the same - made him remember a conversation he had overheard between Bruce and Pepper once, that most people spend more money and attention on their pets than themselves.

"Come here." Louis had meanwhile dried himself and held now one of the thick turquoise towels out for him. Again he was reminded of being a child when he felt himself being enfolded in the soft material and carefully rubbed dry. The towel smelled faintly of washing detergent and a sweet flowery softner and in the fleeting privacy of the towel he closed his eyes and inhaled, pretending for a moment he was at a hotel and nothing of this all had happened.

Much too fast he was woken from this dream by the disappearance of the towel, but just to find himself again the receiver of one of Louis' strangely intense looks. The blush that he had previously lost returned with renewed vigor and made him look down at the tiles again, totally missing the hand the other held out to him first before just placing it on his shoulder and pulling him with him.

"Come, my pretty boy", he coed. "Let's get you get some sleep."

And that was what happened - Tony lying down on what he was slowly coming to think of his blanket in Louis office, falling asleep to the soft whisper of shuffled papers and the harder, more familiar staccato of fingers on a keyboard.

 

?Â¿

 

The first he noticed upon waking were the low voices speaking in a language he didn't know. It took him a while to assign the voices to Louis and Sigyn, his mind still addled by sleep, but when he did he rolled over and braced himself on his hands so he would be able to actually see them.

Both were looking down at him - wary as he had come to associate with warriors, like Clint and Natasha, and Steve and Bucky and Sharon, used to live under circumstances where keeping your surroundings under close observation could make the difference between living and dying -, Sigyn grinning and Louis with an amused spark in his eyes.

It was he who reached out first, carding fingers softly through Tony's hair.

"Ever anyone told you that you look cute with your sleep head?", Sigyn teased and Tony found himself blushing once more, but he couldn't resist biting back: "No, never. They all thought I look gorgeous."

The hand in his hair - heavy, deadly, powerful, comforting - stilled and for a moment he almost feared he had gone too far when it began to shake and Louis began to laugh, followed by Sigyn's far less dark chuckle.

"I walked right in this one, didn't I?", she asked, before climbing to her feet. "So, since you're awake enough for verbal sparring let's go."

"Go ...?", he echoed, unsure what she meant. Had he forgotten something ...?

Her raised eyebrow was the only outward sign of her own confusion. "You. Having a date. With an espresso machine? In my garage?"

The sleepy confusion was cleared from his mind before she had fully finished, replaced with unbelieving excitement. His eyes snapped to Louis and he found himself asking, without words, for confirmation.

The slow smile spreading on the other's lips and the slight nod was enough to make him almost dizzy with joy before he sprang up, not caring that he dislodged the fingers still playing with the strands of his hair - ignoring the sudden urge to hug the man in front of him. He was almost by the door before he heard Louis' low chuckle, then, when he turned - he wouldn't be allowed to run off alone, anyway - Sigyn grinned and followed.

"My, and here I thought you weren't as eager as you had me lead to believe", she teased good naturedly before opening the door and leading the way down the floor.

Tony looked back just once, at the man watching his joy with amusement and something much too tender in his face, before he turned and followed Sigyn down to where he was awaited by the one he couldn't live without.

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm having a short request this time:
> 
> I think I've said it before already, but I really don't like stories that are too heavy on the "hurt". At the moment I'm not too sure if I'm leaning too much in this direction, so I'd like for you to tell me what you think.
> 
> Thank you


	41. Clear in retrospection

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First, thank you all for replaying to my question and easing my worry. Originally I wanted to write a much happier story, but, well, not with this beginning ... so thank you.
> 
> Second, this chapter is edited in a bit of a hurry, so I'm not exactly pleased how it worked out. I may come back and edit it again.
> 
> EDIT: Now edited. Much better now, really ...

Seeing the joy in Anthony's eyes filled him with both wonder and sadness.  _Wonder_ , because it transformed his already very handsome face into something truly beautiful, his eyes sparkling brown, the pale skin flushed a healthy pink, his lips shining and delight radiating from him like a halo that even his unruly hair could not take the radiance from.

_Sadness_ because he now knew what had kept Anthony’s mind busy the whole time he was supposed to focus on sparring.

He hadn’t suspected anything might be wrong when he let Anthony leave with Sigyn, thought everything as okay as it could be in this situation. Otherwise he would have cut the conversation with Jean and Mary short, even with them both being as keen on it as they were. But he hadn't, and that meant he had been sitting in the kitchen with them, listening to them asking about what he might want for Christmas and what he thought Sigyn might want and what they should get Anthony.

It was that last one that had caught his at attention. What could they get Anthony that the man would like but could not use to escape? Not to mention the fact that he didn't want to make Anthony feel as if he  _owed_ them.

In the end they hadn’t come to any decision, but agreed that Loki would look their suggestions over once they thought of something to see if they were suitable.

Still, this was a problem, because  _he_ hadn't thought to get Anthony something, too. Really, the feast - Christmas, as humans called it - was still something strange to him, even more so because with every passing year he came to know more of the customs and stories surrounding it. As a being of several hundred years that remembered how the world had been before Christianity had replaced the older religions - some of them dedicated to the Aesir themselves, even if they tended to use other names as was befitting for a race the avatars to the Great Powers were born to -, stripping the old tales from their truth and white-washing them until even the greatest evil could seemingly be destroyed by a prayer and a believing heart. 

Louis couldn't decide whether he should be amused or impressed. The way this new old stories were told read themselves, for a magician at least, like an lesson in how to use sorcery, and had he not seen for himself how much the magic had thinned out of humanity's blood after the Ljósálfar stopped visiting most of the world due to better surveillance (not that they had fully stopped - it took more than the threat of a camera to keep one of the arrogant lords away) he would have thought them a race of wizards able to rival even the Svartálfar themselves.

But since their will wasn't enough to sway the universe to do their bidding - at least most of them - watching humans reenact the in all nine realms and beyond feared Great Hunt of Odin and his court as a children's tale with a friendly  _fat_ \-  _this_ part he liked most - old man that brought them coal or toys left him with the sudden problem to not choke on his laughter.

Really, he might not love humanity, but he absolutely adored their ability to cheer him up.

But back to the traditions of the feast. One was that the humans traded gifts with their loved ones - and business partners, which made him really grateful for Mikey's ability to come up with suitable gifts for jaded men and women with too much money already.

For Mary and Jean he had decided on gifts early on; being able to plan long-term paid off in many ways, and it kept him from being trampled by Christmas-shopping crowds. Sigyn was a bit more difficult, mostly because she had stopped giving him hints about cars or motorcycles she would enjoy to drive, but he had acquired a plane and a teacher to give her the required lessons, something he thought she might enjoy after the yacht he had gifted her with last year.

Lee was equally taken care of as were Mikey and Jon, who as his most personal employers deserved to get a gift from him, or at least that was what Mary had said and he wasn't one to scoff at her words.

So that left only Anthony.

Of course he had often jokingly thought about what to get the Avengers - both gifts that were tricks - a Berserk's staff for Banner, a beverage to lessen it's drinker's inhibitions and make him indulge into the flesh's joys for Rogers - but also those that were truly signs of the ...  _affection_ ... he held for his favorite superhero-team, like the arrows bespelled to destroy a sorcerer's work waiting down in the armory to be gifted to Barton, or the set of knives he made for Romanov on his last visit to Asgard.

There was also still a lump of dwarf-ore waiting for Tony Stark in one storage room, but what would be more than fitting for the hero just wouldn't do for Anthony, broken and stripped of his tools as he was.

But what could he give him? Whatever he gave him would not be  _his_ , for as a slave he could not own anything. But the same was true for promises as he had been shown just now so clearly - as Anthony's master he could revoke whatever he had said without the man having any chance to do anything against it.

But then he wasn't named "sly one" for nothing, and he had always appreciated riddles like this.

_At least there could be a_ good _answer to it_ , he thought, his mind turning back to the afternoon.

When he had entered the gym he had still thought everything was alright, with Anthony and Sigyn standing by the racks, the captain explaining several of the weapons to him. Only when he drew nearer he had seen the slight shiver that ran down the delicate spine, but attributed it to the nerves that still seemed to plague the man down here, more so now that he was already suffering from yesterday's workout and was expected to perform again. It just made Louis silently swear that he wouldn't let Anthony overwork himself.

But while the man struggled through the Trials with the same will as he had the day before there was something missing, an eagerness, fire, that he had so shortly seen flare up in those expressive eyes.

It had been the first time he had felt uneasiness within him, and it had made him check up on the man who sat beside the sparring ground, watching them with an expression that provoked him to ask if he was alright.

And he promptly got a strained smile and a flippant "I'm good" that made him actually feel relieved when Anthony added: "Could just need another of this." while gesturing to his empty bottle, for his thirst he could remedy, but the obvious lie that was his first statement ... he had had no idea what to do about it.

Though forgetting about him altogether over the competitive streak that Sigyn woke in him when she chose the axes instead of the sword to defeat him with wasn't helping. Really, what had he thought of, aside from his anger about Sigyn choosing one of his least loved weapons -  _aside from the laughs he had faced throughout his life whenever he had to fight with a weapon so obviously meant for someone who could fight with strength instead of finesse?_

At least Sigyn made him snap out of his memories by reminding him of Anthony or he would still be down there, trying to fight the shadows of Aesir warriors he had long ago bested and that yet still lived on in his mind as those that had taunted him with weapons he was much too young, too inexperienced and too weak to master, leaving him with broken skin and bones to find his own way to the healer.

(Odin had been furious, even more so when he decided to not reveal their names but instead punished them himself with methods Odin couldn’t approve of.)

At least he was then there to help Anthony along - and Sigyn was right, the man was cold under his touch, his hand like ice to his hot Aesir skin. As fast as possible he touched him even further, at a maybe not entirely appropriate area that made it easier to use his magic on the man, and let his power flood Anthony's body, before getting him away from the much too cold basement up to his own room.

There were spells to heat this part of the house that even central heating didn't seem to be able to fully warm, but he had refrained from using it until now because no-one spend much time here and for the gym this temperature was better anyway; maybe he should reconsider, for Anthony’s wellbeing.

Seeing Anthony eye the staircase with what could easily be hopelessness woke the urge to pick him up and carry him, but when his face again showed determination he only offered his help, knowing full well that it would be denied, and then left him to his struggling even though his fingers itched whenever Anthony had to pause and catch his breath, or the one time he almost lost his balance at the head of the first stair.

But eventual they reached his room and Loki lost no time in getting him under the warm shower - hot, really, or as hot as he could go without hurting his delicate human pet.

When he watched how he came to life under the spray he couldn't contain himself anymore and pressed a short kiss on his forehead, then gave him the praise he was due - he  _had_ done wonderful, and he should know it.

Not that he seemed to be able to take it this way, for he looked away and ... did he blush at seeing his cock?

He didn't still fear him?

Nonetheless he found himself reassuring him. "Anthony. You have no reason to fear me. Do you remember? I am  _not_ going to take advantage of you."

And he reacted - still shy, but he relaxed under his hand, and Loki followed it up by giving him a sponge bath - tentatively at first, but with much firmer use of both the loofah and his other hand when the man continued to stay relaxed.

And oh, how much he loved the feel of the firm skin under his hands, the simple reassurance that the man was alive, and well, and liked being touched by him, something he hadn’t often experienced.

It was with regret that he stopped washing him, but Anthony’s eye lids had dropped and his legs were shaking in exhaustion, so he really ought to get him to bed now. He rinsed the soap from his skin before hastily cleaning himself - there were spells he could use when he wasn't happy with the result after all - before motioning him out of the shower.

Toweling him dry was a treat as always - feeling the fragile, pliant,  _warm_ body under his hands, separated only by a strip of material, smelling his own earthy concoction spiced with the herbal soap he normally used only on himself - but this time there was an extra quality to it he only understood when he saw the look on Anthony's face upon releasing him - innocent, young, lost, like a kid left alone in the dark.

Maybe it was this that made him react as he had never done before, with a strange warmth and even stranger softness. Pulling him in he whispered: "Come, my pretty boy. Let's get you get some sleep."

And Anthony followed him, let himself be helped to Loki's study and laid down on his blanket like a stray puppy that had found another master to care for it, falling asleep before Loki had even conjured a thick blanket to cover him with - the man was too exhausted for his body to hold the warmth it had acquired in the shower for long.

While the man slept Loki couldn't help but sneak glances at him while working his way through his company's mail - and really, hadn't he shed Asgard's throne because it was too much work? Maybe he should reconsider since Asgard at least had never invented  _bureaucracy_ -, the faint blush spread over his cheeks from warmth and sleep, his lips lightly opened, his limbs pliant and his chest rising and falling in the slow rhythm of his breath.

He couldn't tell afterward when the man's sight had fully captured his attention but he only snapped out of it some time later, when Sigyn knocked on the door to his study. Hastily he grasped some papers so he would at least  _appear_ to be occupied before he gave her leave to enter, knowing full well that, barring an incident, she would stand in front of that door until he did so - there was no-one more patient than a royal body guard, after all.

She was freshly showered and wearing a blue shirt with a pair of brown trousers he knew was her preferred wear for the garage, and it took her only one look to see through his ploy as her raised eyebrow showed.

But instead of calling him out on it she just smiled down at Anthony and said, her voice holding honest affection: <And here I thought the excitement to play with my toys would keep him from sleep at all.>

Not surprised by her use of Asgardian he smiled. <I think we powered him out too much.> Almost naturally he reached out and carefully smoothed a strand of unruly brown hair back behind his ear.

<Not as much as we could. He's very resilient, and determined to get his strength back.> Her face became serious. <And determined to please his master.>

Still not comfortable with this title Loki changed the topic and soon they were talking about the human's strange holiday traditions and speculated whether they were thought out entirely by them, or inspired by some extraterrestrials having fun.

It was during this that Anthony awoke, his eyes dazed and his hair mussed. Loki couldn't stop himself from reaching out and trying to tidy it up as he would have done for his kids, nor could he help but smile.

Or be charmed by Anthony's eagerness to go with her, even though the glances he shot him showed better than anything how uneasy he was.

So how, how could Loki give him the security he wished to give him?

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next chapter will be Tony playing with his new toy, and the one after it is Loki living out his nature of God of Mischief


	42. A Genius awoken

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony gets to play with his espresso machine, hurray!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ... Can't believe I actually managed this. It took soooooo long ....

All Tony wanted to do was to go straight for Sigyn's garage, but the woman obviously had other plans, for instead of heading out she went to the kitchen where Jean was busying himself taking the cleaned china out of the dish-washer and putting it away.

Upon their entering he looked up from the mug he was drying -  _dish washer that doesn't leave water in the china, have to remember_ \- and smiled. "Let me guess - you’ve come to pinch a bit?"

Not exactly what Tony had had in mind, but there was this oh so sweet smell in the air, alluring and tasty, and when they were already here he wouldn't say no ...

Though he hadn't exactly planned for his stomach to growl like a bear pulled out of hibernation.

Jean laughed. "I knew it", he grinned, then motioned them over to the table. "Coffee? Tea?" The last said in a tone that suggested he knew that he would be turned down, while he was already busying himself taking out a plate and filling it from a bowl Tony hadn't noticed until now and that contained a steaming lot of cookies.

Seeing the chocolated and frosted treats, sprinkled with any kind of sprinkles known to man, had Tony practically drooling - they looked even more delicious than the ones Bruce and Natasha had made last year, supported/hindered by their fellow Avengers.

"You aren't sensitive to the stomach, are you, Anthony? Because they are still warm, I mean."

Mr. ' _I eat everything as long as it's not sporting mould, even if it is the pizza from two days ago or the green chlorophyll shake my AI is making me_ ' Tony just grinned. "Nope, no problem. And ... coffee?" The last said with a longing undertone in his voice.

Grinning Jean nodded. "Then two cups, I guess, Sigyn?" When the woman nodded he turned to the coffee machine, throwing Tony a confidential grin over his shoulder. "Sigyn already brought the espresso machine down in her workshop, so you'll have to make do with this. Just take it as a reminder how  _coffee should taste_ ."

His grin was contagious, Tony found. "Will do", he returned while watching the man set up the machine, carefully measuring the coffee powder into the filter before filling it with water.

Though that only was important until he saw at the edge of his vision Sigyn sitting at the table in front of the plate Jean had set down there and steadily working her way through the cookies.

An almost outraged sound escaped him and he took the last step separating him from the table, picking a square-shaped cookie with chocolate coating and white snowflakes almost the size of his palm and shoving it in his mouth.

It was still soft from baking, the chocolate half-melted, and it tasted like ambrosia. The dark cocoa fully melted at contact with his breath and filled his mouth with it's bitter taste, then the sweetness of the dough, spiced with nuts, almonds, marzipan and a darkness that might actually be scotch hit and his taste buds cried out in joy, telling him he had never eaten anything like this and could they please  _please_ get another bit?

Only when the cookie had vanished was Tony able to look up, though only for as long as it took to tell Jean what he thought of the pastry before he went right back to stuff his mouth with the delicious treat.

The other man just laughed and poured milk in his coffee " _Because it will go better with the cookies._ "

He was right.

And Tony was in heaven, at least for the next twenty minutes that it took to devour the plate of cookies.

 

?¿

 

Still floating on a wave of sugary happiness Tony found himself down in Sigyn's garage, wearing a coat not unlike a blue version of Bruce’s lab coat  _“Because Lou will kill me when you hurt yourself down here.”_ . The espresso machine - a big, brown, monstrous example of why you should buy STARK-technic - was set up at the far side of the car they had both been working on ... yesterday? No, the day before ... the days seemed to flow by and Tony really had a hard time keeping track of what was happening.

There wasn't much that still needed to be done with the car; from what he could see Sigyn was busy drag the wrong paint down before applying a new one, and Tony caught himself remembering how he had so often Dum-E doing that as the AI loved doing these dumb menial tasks he bored of so quickly.

Now he would love doing it, but not as much as fixing the coffee problem. And having a go at proving to Louis that he could be trusted with machines, at least under these circumstances.

"You remember where to find everything?", Sigyn asked, her eyes barely looking away from the shiny black mudguard.

Tony nodded; not that she had shown him the last time, but there were only so many ways to logically arrange a workbench and it hadn't been hard to find his way around.

Taking him by his word Sigyn said: "Ask if you can't find anything" before turning to her own project.

Working with her proved to be a lot like working with Bruce. Where they had worked together the last time, almost constantly talking to each other and exchanging ideas, they were now focused on their own problems, mostly silent aside from the intermittently curse when something wasn't working as it should or a "Do you have the ...?" when they couldn't find a tool. Nothing that would take Tony out of the heaven he had so suddenly found himself in.

And it  _was_ heaven, pure and simple. Standing there next to the metal table, prying the outer casing from the inner workings, and then setting out to changing them. Sweat beginning to drip from his brow when he had to strain himself with something, oily spots appearing all over his fingers and face.

Sigyn's garage was better equipped than some real professional's, complete with anvil, scrap metal and everything else one might need to fix an oldtimer, or give an off the rack espresso machine a personalizing work-over.

Within minutes Tony became absolutely absorbed in his task, taking notes on a block he had found on a shelf with a pencil stub - so much like his father, so absolutely  _out_ compared to what he normally did, so wonderfully satisfying as he hadn't known for so long - searching for ways to work his ideas in the casing, not to mention in a way that made it possible with the materials he had available to him here. As soon as he was done with this he searched for the needed parts, then continued with bending metal to his will where he could not find something suitable, cutting in the plastic, changing the way the tube curved. Found that it wasn't exactly working as he had thought and cut a new path, set up a new system and very nearly made the machine more intelligent than he had planned to when he despaired over the programming, set up a whole new computer and programmed it far better (and far smarter) than the previous. It was harder, slower than he could have done in his own shop, but then he himself wasn't up to his normal fire as well.

He was caught between laughing and crying and desperately throwing everything in the furthest corner and he so fucking much loved it.

Maybe someone should tell Louis that Christmas was yet to come, because for Tony it felt as if it already had, and he had already received his present.

In the end it was Sigyn who broke the comfortable silence they had going - though really? Tony had all but forgotten about her.

"You are doing very well", she said, and Tony would love to be able to say he wasn't letting out a little squeak, his head whipping around at neck-breaking speed at the sound of her voice.

The offender herself sat there, at a chair that had been shoved somewhere halfway between the mercedes and Tony's table, and sporting a smug grin at his reaction, though she made sure that Tony was alright before letting it spread even further.

Tony's heart was trying to jump out of his chest, and it took a few deep breaths until he felt as if he wasn't on the verge of dying anymore. Only then did he process the words and felt a slow, confident grin tug at the edge of his lips. "Well, I  _am_ a genius." A shrug. "And it is what I've been doing since before I went to school." As long as he could think back, to be honest.

And it wasn't as if he ever learned anything useful at school, aside from how to make his looks and mind and mouth - not to mention his (fucking) heritage and his money - pay off in social circles.

"Yes, you are", the words were now slower, thoughtful. "And yet it is not only engineering that you are doing very well in. The Trials have brought agood many people down. You mentioned your fellow Avenger Agent Romanov?"

Tony blinked - that wasn't what he would have expected. Slowly he put the screw driver down and looked over to her, his fronthead creased. "Yeah, well, it’s Natasha who’s been drilling me the most, but honestly? Between Steve and Thor there is no way one can escape training." He shrugged.

Sigyn's expression morphed into a smile. "Then you have to be a good pupil, or Mrs. Romanov and Mr. Rogers good teachers."

Natasha ... well, yes, and Steve, too, but ... "You know Thor." Of course she did - she had told him that she was from Asgard, and Thor was Asgard’s Golden Prince. There was no way she didn't know him. It should more confuse him that he hadn't thought of it before.

"Yes, I do. I once was his teacher." Sigyn was obviously trying to suppress her smile. "He was a ... very enthusiastic pupil. And a good leader. But he is a ... very special case as teacher."

"Very diplomatic put", Tony said dryly; Thor's way of  _teaching_ was mostly to provoke someone to a fight and, after smashing them into the ground, telling them in his load booming voice what all they had done wrong. Seemed he wasn't the only one to find that not the best way. However ... "A good leader?" Thor had been following Steve from the beginning and never ever shown a sign he would like it any other way.

But Sigyn just nodded. "The best. He may not show it much, but he has a brilliant mind for strategy - when he can be bothered to use it - and people tend to follow him. Not only that - he can inspire great loyalty in others, and for them to do their best just to live up to the standard he sets for them. Midgard - Earth - teaches him now that he should also follow those that are greater than him. There are few like him."

Loyalty, strength, okay, but "Strategy?  _Thor_ ?"

Sigyn grinned. "You wouldn't believe it, but yes, he can do it. He just ... he never  _needed_ to, you know? Not with his strength, and his brother helping him along."

There were at once two thoughts fighting in his mind for attention, and Tony decided to voice the one closer to home. "You are ... unlike any aesir I ever met." Though that was a very limited choice, true. Thor, and Thor's brother, and Thor's friends the Merry Warriors and their fearless Jean D'Arc. Well, and Sigyn now.

Whose grin was now stretched so wide as if she knew what was going on in his head. "You've met a lot of aesir  _men_ , didn't you?" At his confused nod she shook her head before explaining: "I love Asgard, I really do, but there are some things that I can't get behind. One is the way it is so bound in traditions. The borders are softening, but a man is still frowned upon when he doesn't become a warrior, while a woman's domain is the magic, and science."

"So you being able to think and fight is unusual?"

"You could say so, though more the warrior-part. I've been interested in science all my life, I just never had the patience to learn more of it. Incidentally, becoming a warrior made me learn that."

Her amused snort made Tony grin as well, though it faded quickly when another thought came him. "And ... Louis?" Or whatever his name was -  _Louis_ certainly was no aesir name.

"He ... as you can see, he is not the ideal, too. Part of it is certainly his heritage, but he has also never craved battle and competitions the way aesir do. On the other hand is he a natural with magic - even as a child without training he was better at controlling it than a lot of the older students -, and he is much more inclined to use his mind to find a way out of a problematic situation. There is a reason we left Asgard for Earth."

The last sentence ... it rang true, but there were a lot of other things buried underneath it, too. Other reasons she didn't want to share with him.

Not that Tony really needed that - he could do the maths. Being the odd one out, probably even more so considering that most (earthly) cultures would see a woman in a man's live as stronger than normal, and a man in a woman's as, well, weaker. There must lie a lot of pain that way.

Instead of pursuing this he asked the question he had earlier put back: "What about Loki, Thor's brother? How does he fit in?" Because both what Tony himself had seen as well as what he had heard from Thor agreed that the trickster was devilish smart.

Sigyn reacted ...  _strange_ . Slowly she turned to him and made sure to have his full attention before saying: "Loki is not talked about in this house, Anthony.  _Never_ ."

Pain. Secrets. Honesty and lies, entangled so thick it might as well be the same.

Wide-eyed Tony nodded his consent, wondering what it meant that she talked about Loki with the same painful mixture of love and hate Thor did.


	43. God of Mischief

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki living up to his title ...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Really, this chapter wrote itself. I was just along for the ride.

Loki decided that he needed to do something. Preferably something that  _wasn't_ shoving papers from one heap to the next. Or trying to decide whether Anthony would betray the trust he had put in him. Or ...

Well, he just needed to be  _ himself _ for a while. And what better way than to cause a bit of mischief?

Decided he piled the stray papers on a heap before turning to his still running computer. It was showing a mail from some of his business acquaintances and he couldn't close the tab fast enough - he really couldn't stand being  _ Louis _ sometimes. 

After that ... the beginning of a rather nasty smile curled the edges of his lips up before he snapped his fingers to activate the enchantment he had placed on the machine, making it unidentifiable in the net.

His eyes sparkling from mirth he opened another tab, this one the homepage of the  _ New York Times _ . It only took him a couple of seconds to find the article about the Avengers - t here was  _always_ an article about them, even if it was just Sharon and Rogers holding hands in Central Park. This one was about Barnes, Rogers and Barton at a charity tournament with a whole mob of teens.

Loki couldn't hold his smirk back anymore; this was even  _better_ than he had imagined. How he would love to see their reactions; but alas, it wasn't possible. He would just have to make do with their anger the next time they met - especially Barton would be hilarious, and Rogers ... that man was worse than Asgard's virgins!

Grinning he flexed his fingers and watched as the archer's arrow turned into a more ... hearty version of itself, the bow getting decorated with flowers and strips of ivory-colored material. And the archer himself ... well, the shoes had to go, his shirt as well. The long brown pants switched to a pair of white diapers and around his arms and legs new strips appeared, decorated with red hearts, and a golden circlet rested upon his brow, making it seem a bit like a halo. Short, he looked like a very easy on the eye, muscular cherub.

Satisfied with the result Loki turned to the captain.

Mmh ...  _Captain_ ... an eye patch, obviously. And the clothing shifted so it would better fit a pirate captain. Not to mention a long rip down his chest, a golden nipple piercing and two broad  vambrances around his wrists. And his shield, obviously - couldn't let him run around with the symbol of a technological country. Maybe more ... yes: a silver shield with a sign that could be both a dragon as well as a scarcely clad lady ...

The result wasn't really what he wanted, but he found himself unwilling to go further - the good captain was a bit of a prude, and embarrassing him too much ... he didn't want to actually  _ hurt _ the man, just remind him that there was a trickster out here waiting to play with them again.

And together with the truly striking Puss in boots he made of Barnes ... soft redgold fur covering his whole body, cat ears peaking out of his curly hair, whiskers just beneath his nose, and a tail coming out at the bottom of his pant s - the only clothing he wore beside the boots ... he even gave credit to the fake arm the man had and made the fur there a silvery gray. Together with the pistol and the heavy leather boots he made a very strikingly picture.

Grinning Loki paused for a moment to inhale the picture, then downloaded it in his ever growing file of Avengers photos before skipping to the next side.

_The Daily Bugle_ would appreciate his artistic skills even more (sometimes he wondered if their boss wasn’t secretly a super villain himself). And since he supposed there was a picture about Thor's accident in a ice cream shop to be expected ...

Skipping through the websites, giving every picture of his favorite superhero team a personal touch he found his spirits raising and a big smile splitting his face in two. He was especially proud of the picture of the Avengers fighting the magician boy the other day, in which he changed every one of the heros into a pokemon and gave the child a pokeball in his hand (very hard not thinking about how he had come to know of this plague of humankind; really,  _Fenrir_ !). 

A few clicks further he found the first discussion round talking about his picture tricks, smirking broadly when he saw that they were suspecting him, though still unsure how a space-viking like him could know this much about technology. Yeah, well, compared to Thor ... he supposed he shouldn't be surprised they thought Asgard to be backwater, considering how clumsy his brother tended to be when faced with earth's inferior - and oh so aesir-unsuitable fragile - technology.

It reminded him of an older picture of Thor that could easily be transformed into a living form of the midgardian saying of the bull in the china shop and he let his magic fly to find him the picture he thought of.

The moment it appeared it stopped mattering anymore and he felt his good mood icing over with pure rage between one eye blink and the next. 

Yes, there was that picture, exactly as  he remembered, but there was also a link to a newer story, an interview, given by Justin Hammer.

Talking about the disappearing of Tony Stark.

Speculating the man was fleeing from his responsibility.

...

...

Loki closed his eyes and very  _very_ slowly and carefully pressed his breath out between clenched teeth before breathing in again, trying to clear his mind of the all consuming wish to break this miscreant’s neck.

It didn't work.

Sparks flew when he opened his eyes again, and when he exhaled he saw the page flicker , saw dark aesir runes appear over the transcription of the interview and a dark figure - a stickman - wring Hammer's neck - his magic being let loose in the way that was most familiar to him, a s illusion.

But it wouldn't do. Pressing his teeth together so hard he could hear it he made a fast gesture that would delete every other rendition of the interview, be it on the internetä or otherwise, before he was on his feet and out of the door.

He barely regis tered how he arrived down on the first floor - maybe he flew, for his mind was far to churned up for teleporting- his whole being fixed on the thought of killing this little unworthy ant when he heard a concerned inquiry.

Turning he found Jean coming over to him.

Whatever he saw in his face made the other man's step falter and he asked, his voice uncertain: "Is something wrong?"

_Wrong_ ?  _Something_ ?! Unable to find words to explain himself he said: " _He said Anthony ran from his responsibility._ " Concern reared it's head - had Anthony heard him? No, he surely was gone, down with Sigyn in the garage where he was safe from this accusations.

Jean had gotten very very quiet. "What ... are you going to do?"

Loki's answering grin needed no further words.

"Maybe ... can we talk about it?" The man really didn't know what fear was. Or he was smart enough to know that Loki would never hurt him. "I don't think Anthony would appreciate it when you killed to preserve his honor."

Maybe Loki should think again about not killing him.

It only took him an instant to have Jean crowded against the wall, the other man's back slamming against it-  _careful, Loki, he’s fragile_ . "And what would you suggest I do?", he spat through gritted teeth. Even if Jean was right - and even in his state of mind he had the inkling that he was, Tony being a hero and all - there was too much angry energy running through him to let him let this go.

There was no hesitation before Jean answered: "A blowjob." Long, nimble fingers plucking on his shirt and pulling it out of his trousers, playing over his waist while the man leaned in. "A nice" nibbling on his collarbone "hot" a wet tongue curling around the flesh, warm breath on his skin "long blowjob, teeth scraping over cock and"

Loki didn't let him finish. In one smooth movement he had him slammed back in the wall and sunken to his knees, his own fingers making quick work of the other man's trousers - he heard material ripping; not that he cared - and then he put his hands against Jean's hipbones, keeping him forcefully still, before leaning in.

There was not much Loki loved more than giving a blowjob, having his partner at his mercy the way he now had Jean while he trailed hot wet kisses up the man's tights, feeling how a small tremble made them quiver. Looking up at him he showed his teeth in a sharp and predatory grin, reveling in the way Jean's pupils dilated, his pulse jumped and he quickly swallowed. He knew, where he in his jotun body instead of this aesir shape with it's duller senses, he would now smell a touch of fear mixed into the heady arousal coming from the man.

But it didn't matter, not when he could see it so clearly in eyes almost swallowed up by their own pupil while he leaned in to delicately tongue the head of the cock, all the while not taking his eyes from his prey.

The abrupt beginning meant he wasn't already leaking as he normally was whenever Loki got him to agreeing to this, but that didn't deter him in the slightest. Instead he leaned in a bit more and sucked just the head in his mouth, his muscles working hard to draw out the helpless moan that Jean made. Smirking around a mouthfull of cock he proceeded to suck harder, his aesir strength meaning he could suck as no human ever could, suck like he was trying to devour the man through his cock. Slowly he took his right hand away and put it against the other man's balls. A violent shudder ran through Jean and Loki felt how he had to take more of the other's weight - obviously someone's legs had given out.

Satisfied he continued, licking along the whole length in front of him while simultaneously rolling the balls in his fingers, reveling in the reactions that got him - moans and sighs that transformed into a cracked sob when he again took the cock into his mouth, swallowing it wholly in one go.

Former lovers had often asked him how he did this - taking even the longest cock - but how could he explain that the difficulty to breath, the heavy rod triggering his gag reflex, paled beside the power the trembling legs, the shouting and begging gave him?

How the broken pleas Jean's to continue now made his mood lighten?

Pleased with the reaction he let the cock go, slowly, his teeth scraping lightly over it while his tongue danced over the underside and the sob above him morphed into delighted moans. Yes, that he couldn't get enough of.

Slowly he continued this way, alternating between swallowing the cock and working it with teeth and tongue and lips until it was a hard hot leaking rod connected to an utterly destroyed man trying to beg for mercy with a hoarse, sore voice.

Loki leaned back a bit to look up at the man that was now only held upright by the wall in his back and the hand Loki still had at his hips, his legs having now given almost fully out. Whimpers and pleas streamed from his lips as did the sweat over his skin, hot tears betraying his desperation. One hand was on the wall, scrabbling for something,  _anything_ to hold onto - Jean would know better than to try to touch his head - while the other jerked at his red and sore nipples - pain to help him anchor himself; Loki knew why he loved playing with this human.

When the time got too long the dazed eyes found Loki's, trying to focus on him, and the pleas got just a bit more - "please, Loki, can't ...  _please_ ..." - he leaned back in and took the cock back in his mouth. This elicited another whimper - Jean had to be quite sensitive by now - and then he swallowed around the hard rod, his fingers darting forward to where he knew Jean's prostrate was located and then he pushed, hearing the man cry out - telling him he was close, still so cute - it only took another swallow and a very determined scrape of his fingers over the gland he could feel as a small spot under his fingertips before he exploded right down his throat.

Loki didn't really care for the taste of cum, but he swallowed quickly - unwilling to let something fall on his shirt - until he felt Jean squirm under his hand and his moans became increasingly painful, which he took as sign that this was ended.

"You were right", he said to the man still panting helplessly above him. "I was really premature."

He shouldn't have tried to kill Hammer, that would just raise someone's suspicion.

Even though he was sure that wasn't the reason Jean would have cited.

Standing up he strolled over to the stairs, in tending to find another way to make Hammer's life miserable. 

Behind him he could hear Jean slowly straighten himself and say, his voice still hoarse but amused: "You're welcome, you bastard."

Some people really couldn't appreciate a divine blowjob.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't worry, this is still frostiron. There's nothing between Jean and Loki (aside from poor little Jean being the one Loki goes to to vent his frustration ...)
> 
> Since this is my first time trying to write something explicit (in english) I would actually like to hear from you what you think (tell me what to do better. There is some sex between Tony and Loki ... somewhere in the future ... I swear ...you want me to know how to write then ...)


	44. Walking on clouds

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay, my muse ran away with me and never left me time to correct what I'd written ... on the bright side that means there are several more chapter coming up as fast as I can read them over.
> 
> There is also a new part of this series - Jean's POV on the last chapter, can be found [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2339423)

Walking had never felt easier, stiff muscles, squashed thumb and hurting calves included, than now. Though floating might even be easier, Tony thought when he followed Sigyn into the living room after they scrubbed oil and dirt from their hands and faces and, in Tony’s case, neck.

Really, playing around with technic for the full afternoon - he felt so happy, so relaxed ... if not for Sigyn's amused insistence that they had to go when Jean rang the gong he would still be down there and tinker away. Forget about the rest of the world, and everyone in it.

Forget about the past.

But then Sigyn wasn't wrong - now, away from the alluring song of the electricity, he could feel exhaustion settle in his limbs and coldness seep through his skin. Not to mention the painful growl with which his stomach let him know that it was mealtime the moment they walked in.

Smiling Louis looked up from the shelves he was standing next to. "You had a nice afternoon, my Anthony?"

The grin broke out all over his face without any input from Tony. "Yes", he said, hearing how excited his voice sounded and not even the least bit shy about it. Louis had to knew how much he loved this, didn't he? So he could sound the part, too, couldn't he?

And really, Louis' smile grew only wider. "So, will there be real coffee then tomorrow?", he asked lightly.

"Nope", Tony admitted, a shadow falling over his face. "It's making coffee for Mary. I'm still working on having it make coffee for  _me_ ."

A surprised laugh escaped Louis at that. "You're even more choosy than her, then?" And, when Tony found himself blushing: "Maybe I will even try  _your_ coffee then."

Louis - drinking coffee? Didn't sound like such a good idea, from what the others had told him. Thoughts whirled through Tony's head. "It can do hot chocolate. Sweet, yes? With much milk, and cinnamon?" Or at least that was how Tony thought Louis might like it.

The man went still and blinked for a moment before his face showed, for one fleeting moment, an expression that Tony had seen so often on the face of his fellow Avengers when he had done something for them, be it Clint's arrows or Bruce's favorite tea. Well, some of them - he had never seen Sharon being surprised by other people doing something nice for her, but then he found himself always envying her for the childhood-stories she could tell. Or Thor ... well, the golden prince of Asgard had never been found wanting for anything but his brother's love, and sometimes, while fighting Loki, Tony thought he might even have that.

But Louis was surprised that Tony offered to do something for him, and it reminded him of what Sigyn had said - about him being the odd one out in Space Viking land.

"That would be very much appreciated", the man said now, smiling almost shyly, before turning back to the shelf. "You prefer your music hard and loud, I heard?", he murmured, his long fingers running over the cds that filled the shelves in front of him - really, absolutely  _filled_ ; the man had obviously never heard of mp3s and music being stored on pe n drives.

"Louis."

The stern voice made Louis duck his head and Tony found himself grinning at his sheepy expression. "Of course not, Mary", he reassured the woman that was now looking over to them with mistrusting eyes from where she was sitting in her armchair. "I would not dare to chose music so opposed to your taste."

Sigyn laughed. "Burned your fingers quite thoroughly?", she teased and took the glasses out. "Orange juice or water, Anthony?"

"I ... erm ... juice, please." It was ... funny to watch Sigyn and Mary tease the hell out of Louis, even m ore so after Jean turned up with a big plate full of what looked like rolled-up crêpes and joined in, making Louis look like a betrayed puppy if not for the amused glint in his gorgeous emerald green eyes.

It end ed with Louis turning a thoughtful look at Tony and saying: "Maybe ..." before choosing a cd from the rack. It was an almost black cover with a half moon, framed by bleeding vampire teeth. Not exactly something Tony would have thought Louis owned.

But he couldn't think more about this for the man shoed him over to the couch - "You must be hungry, little one"  _and he certainly wasn't little_ ! - and he followed, without waiting for further prompt sinking down to his knees at the man's feet.

"You know, I begin to suspect Jean likes you more than me", Louis said from above him and Tony looked up, blinking and nervously asking himself if he had done anything wrong. Though the man seemed more amused than anything else when he continued: "He's never made so many of his specials in a row before."

"Well, Anthony's helping in the kitchen, that leaves me more time to actually cook, you know?", teased Jean back. "Completely different to some other people I know."

Tony wasn't sure what they were talking about until Louis had cut off a piece of the crêpe which turned out to be filled with a mixture of mushrooms and cheese and tasted delicious. Moaning around the hot delicacy he let Louis retract the fork, practically begging for another bite by leaning against his thigh and looking up with big puppy eyes.

"He's really very good, isn't he?", Louis said before taking a bite himself. Slowly he continued alternately feeding Tony and eating himself, while Mary put one the news on the TV.

That actually got his attention; he was still hungry for news from the outside world, even with Louis letting him catch up via newspapers - or possible more so, now that his hunger had once flared up.

They began with some politician's new plot, a new development with the same old law like yesterday, a minor ship-accident in the pacific that had Louis saying something about humans not deserving earth. And then he suddenly looked at Clint.

Well, Clint would probably hide himself when he could see this - would hide, because him being dressed up as Amor had been uploaded to the net.

An unbelieving snort escaped him, then another, then, when they showed the whole picture including Buckitty and Captain Steve Sparrow he couldn't contain himself anymore and began to outright laugh, his whole body shaking from it so hard the he bumped repeatedly against Louis' thigh and he barely missed the reporter saying that Loki was suspected for this change rather than some random hacker.

He did  _not_ miss the strange, unreadable atmosphere that settled over the room at this announcement, the way both Jean's and Sigyn's lips twitched while Mary rolled her eyes in a rather amused way. 

He could not read Louis, sitting in front of him as he did, but he did remember what Sigyn had said - _Loki is not talked about in this house_ \- and that sobered him up enough to still against the other's leg.

A hand settled in his hair, stroking slowly. "You find joy in your comrades' ... misfortune?"

"Well ... no-one got hurt." And he hoped that his quiet words were not too much when Sigyn stilled abruptly and even Jean's eyes flickered over to the man in his back.

The man whose hands had stopped petting Tony's hair.

The man that did not want to speak about Loki.

The man that held his life in his hands.

Tony felt how his breath accelerated when fear filled him with ice and a shiver ran down his spine.

"Yes", Louis said, slowly, the hand resuming the play with his hair. "They are all well."

"Mary and I are going shopping the day after tomorrow. Do you need anything?", Jean cut the strained silence that threatened to settle over them.

Sigyn perked immediately up. "They still have this mango jam?"

"You didn't like it." Anthony breathed out; Louis sounded normal again.

"I liked it just fine", Sigyn almost,  _almost_ pouted. "I was savoring it. Am I to blame that you obliterated it before I could eat it?"

Louis mpfhed before stroking his fingers down along Tony's temple and cheek. "If you can get your hands on more of this fine blueberry tea I would be very grateful", he said. Then his fingers slipped under Tony's jaw and he felt his head being tilted up. "And you, sweet? Is there anything you would wish for?"

There were many things he wished for, first of all his freedom, but nothing he could ask for. So he just shook his head, trying to keep his thoughts from his face least Louis took offense.

Not that he still thought he would do so. Louis had to know what he wanted, and he was always so very careful with him ...

"Nothing, Anthony?", murmured the soft voice in his ear. "Not even some ridiculous expensive coffee to go along with your new coffee brewer?"

Tony really wanted to deny that, but when he opened his mouth something entirely else fell out: "A solar panel."

Almost immediately a furious blush spread over his cheeks and he felt his eyes widen in horror over what he had said.

Louis on the other side only seemed to be surprised. "A ... solar panel. I thought you said solar power were a waste of time, the way it is now."

He had. Probably. Half-drunk on some party or conference. At least it was what he thought. "I ... yes. But ... it's better than nothing, and ..." actually, it was just that his genius had run away with him the longer he worked on the espresso machine, and the more he came to appreciate how well Sigyn kept her work shop stocked.

"Next you are going to tell me it is not only providing coffee, but also washing the mug after drinking."

"That's ... actually that's an amazing idea." Tony could feel himself sit up straight, but he barely paused to process it - his mind was going a hundred miles per hour, trying to fit a small mug washing device into the machine. Of course, he would have to open it up even more - not that that was a problem, he had to discard the case by now anyway - but maybe he could fit it in right beneath the boiler and use the water of ...

The sudden stop was like ice water down his spine when he remembered who he was, and where he was, and who it was that was sitting behind him. "You don't want me to ...?"

A low chuckle filled the room and Louis bowed down to kiss him lightly on the forehead. "If it makes you happy you may have your mug washer, and a solar panel. Just explain to Jean what you need."

The fingers returning to his hair relaxed him more than the words, but that didn't matter. What mattered was that Louis wasn't mad at him, and he would be able to return to his building tomorrow, and there was still a bit of warm and tasty food on the table waiting to be devoured. Did it matter that Louis had too much power over him, or that he could stop his tinkering anytime, or that he wasn't allowed to eat the food himself? Well, yes, of course it did. But he trusted Louis to not abuse him, and to leave him to his tinkering. And the fork returning to his lips actually filled him with a warmth he had barely ever felt before.

The  news had ended when he was finished eating and Jean had brought a dessert made of diced cheese and grapes on a spit. Mary shut the TV off while Sigyn took the cd Louis had chosen earlier and put it in a player, while Jean pulled a stack of cards out.

"Do you  play poker?", he asked Tony. "Winner's choosing lunch tomorrow."

Tony nodded. He was good at poker - much better now, after playing so many times against Natasha.

While Jean dealt the card the music began to fill the room - a soft rhythm that sounded vaguely Asian, but with drums underneath it that reminded him of Thor's singing. Well, at least until a young male voice rose up and sang about love and peace and just about everything else up to and  _ including _ pink unicorns that one would never find in Aesir songs.

Grinning Tony settled back, let Louis pull him in until he was encased on both sides by strong warm muscled thighs, his back dangerously near to the other's crotch.

He felt no fear. Not as long as the hand slowly played with the strands of his hair, and the man himself chuckled whenever someone tried to pry from him Tony's cards - he himself wasn't playing -, and the soft voice of a young man sang of hope and love for all beings of all worlds.

 

 

 


	45. Loki

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How Loki perceives his acquaintance with Anthony ...

It was almost unsettling how normal things became after those eventful first days.

Loki would wake up in the morning, most of the times before the sun was up. Anthony was always still asleep at those times, cuddled deep within his blanket and more often than not curled around his pillow, leaving Loki to struggle between the smile at the adorable picture he was presenting, and the white-hot rage at whoever had made him feel like he had to hold onto his pillow so tightly.

Not wishing to disturb the still recovering man he would then take a book from his nightstand, or his tablet, or even the newspaper, depending on his mood, and keep himself occupied until the clock neared 8 o'clock, which he took as sign to carefully wake Anthony - by magic that seeped into his body and reminded it that it hadn't eaten for 12 hours straight.

He would then be treated to one of the most endearing pictures possible: after Tony had reassured himself that he was still with Louis and hadn't been magically transferred back into his cell - an insecurity that Loki was  resolved to cure him of - he would struggle over until he laid on his stomach and then lift his head, at first always looking to Loki. And the look on his face ... open, almost  _trusting_ eyes, his barriers cracked by sleepiness so Loki could see the hope in him, something that was even more endearing than the tousled hair or the way he still clutched the blanket to his chest like a maiden may with her first lover.

But he wasn't body shy, not anymor e. Really, he grew more confident with every passing day, and not only when it came to matters of the body.

When Loki got him in the shower he relaxed under his hands as Loki remembered Angrboda doing. There had been one halfheartedly attempt to wash himself but when Loki had - grudgingly; he  _ liked _ caring for his little p et - given him the loofah he had seen the other man's still oh-so-tense muscles and simply taken the sponge again at their next shower, and felt with relish the way Anthony had melted under his hands.

It seemed that he liked being cared for, even though he had still - fully understandable, as far as Loki was concerned - issues with being touched.

After the shower he dressed himself - noticing the way Anthony watched him; surprisingly  _this_ seemed to be the one thing that bothered him the most; not kneeling, or being naked but watching Loki dress. It made sense, he guessed - from all the things that Loki did this was the one he was explicitly  _not_ part of - he ate what everyone else ate, he slept in almost a bed, could now play games and watch tv, shower and even play with his favorite toys. But he was never allowed to be dressed.

In a way, Loki was torn about this. Of course he knew that his pet wanted to be wearing clothes. Humans had such peculiar opinions about clothes ... as if being naked made them somewhat lesser. Really, it was ridiculous - no aesir would think of himself as lesser just because he was naked (no vanir either, and the Ljósálfar barely even clad themselves at all) and Aesir warriors learned to fight naked for one should always be prepared for an attack, and whoever might ever even suggest they were lesser ... well if Loki were able to feel pity he might feel it then.

For the few seconds that person was still alive.

But he knew that humans were different and even though he couldn’t really comprehend the way they thought ... probably he  _could_ give Anthony garments but ...  _he liked seeing him naked_ . Liked seeing how his returning muscles played under his skin when he moved. Liked to see the smooth expanse of gold-brown warm skin, almost begging to be touched and stroked, the body that to hide would really be a pity.

When he was truthful, there was even a part of him (and no small part at that) that liked his (once-)enemy so obviously put into his place.  _On his knees._

And there was still that reason why he had never given him any in the first place - the way he saw it humans hid themselves behind clothes. Without them ... well, Anthony was more truthful than he had ever known him, even though he had to admit that he had never known him as anything else but an enemy before. But he hoped that it helped him accept what Loki told him.

And judging by Jean’s and Mary’s reaction he wasn’t wrong. Both had seemed uncomfortable at first about seeing Anthony naked (and he suspected that anyone else but these two would have outright balked, but then he would never have chosen them to live with him had they not been able to push their petty human morals aside) but had quickly grown accustomed to it. Had grown accustomed to reading Anthony’s desires from his body as Loki himself did.

Though ... seeing him this way sometimes made him  _want_ to give him clothes. Not to  _hide_ him - that was the least thing on his mind - but because ... he didn’t  _want to see him so longing_ , even if it was for just a few minutes every day. 

And now he was trapped in his impersonation of Anthony’s  _master._

Because giving him clothes now, without reason, might just have him suspect that Loki expected something from him - something that Loki wasn't even interested in. And if he gave Anthony what he wanted then he wanted his pet to enjoy his gift - Anthony’s  _right_ , in a way, because Loki couldn’t really see someone  _not_ deserving clothes, not after his own ... experience ...

Well, he would have to think about it a bit more. And in the meantime he would just enjoy the sweet body moving so deliciously for him.

 

When Loki was dressed he took Anthony down to the kitchen for the first meal of the day.

Anthony's appetite was still enormous, but then this was to be expected when being confronted with a meal made by Jean, and at least Loki didn't have to fear him getting ill from it anymore. It also made him look much less starved, so Loki counted it as a win.

Not to mention that he himself was eating better, too. It seemed watching how Anthony enjoyed his meals had infected him with an equal hunger.

Later they would return to Loki's study, where Anthony would get, at least for the first few days, his medicine, before they turned to their respective activities. It had taken Loki only a few days to be up-to-date with his work again and afterward it only required a few hours a day, so he now often studied magic, or looked into his other, off-world businesses while Anthony sat silently beside him and worked his way through the stack of news papers.

Loki suspected he could have finished them by now easily, but that dealing with what had happened while he hadn't been able to do anything - hadn’t even known about it - was much harder than even Loki could understand. Too often he would find him just sitting there, staring into space, and Loki could almost see how the cogs we re whirring w hile his brain processed what he had read.

 

By the time lunch came around Anthony really needed a break and Loki was just too happy to provide one in the form of another of Jean's great feasts, though with lunch he had always to watch out for his pet to not eat too much for the training session later.

Another thing Anthony became ever better in: the first Trial he went smoothly through, only hindered by his still lacking - but fast returning - strength, and while he was still struggling with the second it was easy to see that he would master it some time soon.

This was maybe Loki's second favourite time of the day, surpassed only by the quiet evenings: watching how determined Anthony made his way through the training session, then sitting quietly beside the floor and drinking water - huddled in a long coat made from fjurlska-wool - that would keep him warm even on Jotunheim - that Loki had brought down for him after that second training day - and afterward, being allowed to shower and touch his pet to his heart's content.

Knowing how uncomfortable Anthony was with careless touches, as much as he craved them also fearing those he could not explain, it was a unparalleled treat to be allowed to indulge his strange desire to touch the man.  _ Strange _ , because even though he could see the beauty of him and really wouldn't push him out of his bed his desire to have him was surpassed by his ... his  _ need _ to have him safe. Partly because he knew that taking him would just harm the still recovering man, but also ... he really did not want to think of a hurt Anthony Stark. He just wanted to touch him to know he was safe, and cared for, and content, and what better way to do that than to feel him relax under Loki's hands and lean his small weight in Loki's strong capable arms.

Strange, strange indeed.

 

They would return to Loki's study later, so Anthony would be able to sleep off his weariness, or, once he regained his strength enough to not require it anymore, immediately follow Sigyn down into her workshop (or Jean into the kitchen that one time that Sigyn had to follow him out). Loki would never ever admit it, but he missed these quiet hours with his sleeping pet beside him. Watching him, knowing beyond doubt that he was safe, and as happy as Loki could make him.

Content with Loki.

Even just thinking about it brought a warm feeling showering over his spine.

He adored ... he  _adored_ that.

Though he had to admit, having his afternoon free wasn't bad, either. It left him time to visit friends on Asgard (that one time Sigyn went with him; apparently, while she allowed him to walk almost freely on Midgard, Asgard was another matter and much too dangerous for a prince like him alone) and converse with Amora about the progress her friend made with his mission, and she with her studies, and he with Anthony. Not to mention that he could help Idunn - not that his sister really needed his help managing Asgard when she had both Balder and Heimdall to help her out.

And he was still working on how to destroy Hammer industries or otherwise punish Hammer for his insolence.

But his absolutely favorite time of the day came later, when he went into the salon and found Anthony with Sigyn already there, or coming in short after. When they would sit down on couch and armchairs, and Anthony would sink down to his knees beside him without being prompted anymore as if he had now fully accepted this place as  _his_ \- at Loki's feet, cared for and without the weight of responsibility weighing him down. 

_Safe_ .

Loki would feed him - an act that he felt a strange sensation by, a strange satisfaction, that he would have liked to indulge in more, except for all the reasons he shouldn't - and Anthony took the food from his fingers, or his spoon or fork without the slightest hesitation, even seemed to ...  _was_ he enjoying it, or was Loki just projecting his own desires on him? He hoped not.

After the meal Anthony would sit between his thighs, and they would watch tv - and Loki would get scared less the more they did it, and the less Anthony reacted badly to mentions of the other Avengers (even less often now; it seemed even Midgardian supervillains took a break at this time of the year which would explain why Victor hadn’t called him for the whole last two weeks), or Stark Industries, or even Virginia Potts, even though he did react and very obviously took notice that everyone and everything was alright - or they would listen to music and play games - less Loki for he far more enjoyed watching his pet earthlings and Sigyn by their play - or read - not Anthony; Loki did not like him reading after the morning spent over the newspapers, though he very much enjoyed reading to him - and some time during it Loki would take out the brush and tidy up the silken strands he ended up playing with so often.

And all the time Anthony would be pressed against him, warm and pliant and trusting, and when he fell asleep with his head in Loki's lap - more often than not before they made it back into their shared bedroom, and Loki's magic might or might not be to blame for that - the strange warm feeling in Loki's chest would make him curl his fingers protectively around his head and wish for this moment to never end.

 

But of course it did, for not long after Mary would head to her room, and Jean would follow her after having disposed of the last remains of the dinner. And then he would sit there in the Midgardian room, together with Sigyn who would tell him about her day if there had been something happening, and Anthony if she thought there was something he should know about. And sometimes about Nari and Vali who were living with Tyr while their mother was away on a royal assignment to Midgard to learn the way of the warrior from their father - except they totally weren't, for they both were even less inclined to bloodshed than Loki was, and far more interested in the female arts as well as such on Asgard mostly unknown concepts like diplomacy and psychology, and it was commonly blamed on the fact their mother had been too thick friends with the silvertongued youngest prince and had allowed them around him too much.

It was also said that Tyr was lucky to have a wife willing to take the potions needed to make his unwilling sperm take root in her, for the lack of other offspring from such a handsome and sought after warrior and young lord could have only one reason.

He was also said to be  _un_ lucky to have his wife being so close to the rebellious prince, and sent after him to make sure he was alright least the tentative friendly, rebuilding relationship to Jotunheim (and their young king with his gratitude to the young prince that had made these connections possible in the first time) was  damaged.

But even this talk, and conversation about whatever Loki had done that day or learned from Amora and/or Idunn would cease eventually and while sitting in silence with each other was far from uncomfortable with two as close and known to each other as the two of them, and while aesir and jotnar both did not need nearly as much sleep as humans, they could not well stay up all night  _ every _ night, and so they would he ad for bed not long after midnight, Loki carrying his precious pet like the damsel in distress that he was not (except for how he totally felt that way to Loki). He would lay him down on his make-shift bed and make sure he was comfortable before tucking him in and letting magic flow through his fingers into the body under them to ease the discomfort of the training session and sitting or kneeling at the hard living room floor for much too long.

At last he would go to bed, comfortable only once he had checked on all the little spells kept active even during worst circumstances - the connections to his kids telling him they were safe and happy. To his lovers, the same. To Anthony, that he was kept by his side, and not suffering nightmares. To this house, and any other property he owned within the nine realms and beyond, that there had not been trespasses nor could any be made.

Only when he at last was safe in the knowledge that everything was alright he would allow himself to sleep.

 

The most disconcerting? How absolutely  _content_ Loki, God of Mischief and Chaos, was with this routine his life had fallen into.

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, this is different from the other chapters. No, I'm not going to continue this way. The next chapters just feel better with this and the next chapter (which will be the same from Tony's POV).
> 
> I also hope that this chapter explains why Loki keeps Tony naked. As much as possible (because Loki doesn't know all the reasons himself)


	46. Tony

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As promised, Tony's view

Waking up hungry was something Tony had gotten used to. Waking up hungry and knowing that he would get to eat as much as he wanted was something that was still strangely  _new_ to him.

Not that he thought to complain.

Really, he loved waking up the way he did now, here, with Louis. Maybe it was crazy, but he was always warm under the blanket, and the mattress meant he never had a sore neck or something like he did when he woke up in his workshop as he had done so often in the last months before his kidnapping, trying to avoid the cold empty pepper-less bed.

Here he was never cold, and never alone. He was probably really crazy -  _Stockholm syndrome_ \- but his first look was always over to the bed where Louis sat, reading or studying newspapers.

And he always,  _always_ felt better when he saw him there looking back at him, smiling.

 

They would then stand up and take a shower -  _shower_ ... even just thinking about it made a shiver of pleasure run down his spine when he thought of the warm hands stroking over his skin, of the feeling of care and being loved he got from the touches and looks Louis gave him. From the soft-spoken words and pleased smiles when he found that Tony's ribs weren't quite as pronounced anymore.

It was almost enough to forget what came  afterward. Not being toweled dry - that was okay, more than that really; being caught in the wide-s pread cloth and carefully  rubbed \- no, it was watching Louis cloth himself. From all the things he did - kneeling when he ate, being kept close, having to ask when he needed the toilet (though maybe _ giving note  _ was more accurately as Louis seemed very much  _ not _ inclined to forbid him his basic needs and did barely more than grunt  affirmatively when he indicated that he needed the  closet ) - this was the one that drove home the most what Tony was:  _ owned _ .

_Forbidden to wear anything._

It was strange, because being naked in itself didn’t bother him that much. Yes, it had at first, but later ... maybe what really bothered him was not having the option to cloth himself, because, really,  _Tony Stark_ had never had a problem with exposing himself.

_But then,_ Tony Stark _has never been through what I have been through._

It was the one time every day he really,  _really_ felt homesick. He could ignore it under any other circumstances, but then ...

 

Fortunately Louis never needed too much time for it, and then they would go down to the kitchen where Mary and Sigyn and Jean - and Jean's ten-star-breakfast - always dispelled the melancholy with laughter and kind words.

And he got coffee - not  _his_ coffee at first, because his imagination, having been forced to stillness for so long, ran away with him - and maybe he really was addicted to it as Steve always said because he immediately felt better after his first sip.

Something he needed for when he went upstairs with Louis to his newspapers.

It wasn't that something bad had happened, per se - he already  _knew_ that all the people he cared about were alive and well - okay, he didn't know about Fury, but then there was also the question whether or not he cared anyway - but he hadn't known what else had happened. And reports about earthquakes, or terrorist attacks reminded him that he used to be Iron Man who could help them. When they spoke about the bad hygiene conditions in some countries that let strange illnesses that one couldn’t catch in New York even while living in the sewage spread like a bush fire he knew that Tony Stark, engineer, might have found a way to help them (even though he found reports of Pepper helping them in the name of SI, and was more than grateful for that). 

And then there were reports of missing people, sometimes with pictures, and he caught himself wondering if not  _this_ girl, or  _that_ man had been in the Mistress’ cellar with him once.

 

When Jean called them down for lunch he found he really needed the break to clear his head and he followed Louis more than willingly.

Less willingly he admitted that, when he was sitting beside Louis on the cushion, he was wishing for the evening, when he was allowed to lean into the man and let his warm solidity comfort him.

At least the training session in the gym cleared his head from this kind of thoughts. And he loved that he became ever stronger - his muscles didn't tire that fast anymore and he was capable of holding his position longer and more accurately every day until Sigyn began joking he should try to go through the Second Trial a few more times (he  _hoped_ she was joking).

Not to mention watching Sigyn pummel Louis down while being huddled into a fur coat that almost made him sweat (and please, what kind of environment produced an animal with natural almost-violet fur?!).

_And then the second shower_ ... he couldn't explain it, even to himself, but after powering himself out so much Louis' touch felt even more intimate, more invasive -  _in a good way_ . He felt himself melt into his touch, barely holding the moans in that threatened to escape every moment, with every time the hands caressed his skin. Had he said he felt loved from the first shower? It was nothing compared to this one. He felt like being the center of Louis' universe - and he was _Tony's_ , undeniable - the way his fight-fierce eyes were trained on him, his fingers stroked his skin and hair ... the careful way he was held, and  foamed , and then the soap was rinsed off without ever water touching his face (had he told Louis, or  had he figured it out himself? Tony didn't know, and he didn't care either way). 

When he was pulled out of the shower - so careful as if he was fragile (and maybe he  _was_ compared to the abuse Louis could take, compared to the strength in this slender limbs) - he went almost unwillingly - he  _didn't want this to end_ . But then Louis would wrap him in a towel, thick and soft and smelling faintly of conditioner, like the ones Tony owned at Stark Tower - and the world would disappear once more in the feeling of being cared for, of warmth and love and safety.

The feeling was so powerful, and he felt himself longing for it so much, that he was almost happy when he could disappear with Sigyn in the garage.

He  _shouldn't_ long for his owner's, his  _kidnapper's_ touch, even when he kept him as a loved and cared for pet. Even when he offered everything Tony had never known he dreamed of.

Tinkering with the coffee machine - and Jean's vacuum hover later, once Louis had deemed it okay for him to continue building things - was a more than welcome distraction. The only thing that was as dear to him as Louis' touch.

And he wore clothes here. Well, it was a blue work-overall that Sigyn got for him because they both knew what Louis' reaction would be should Tony hurt himself - it was also a good bit colder in  here (even though not as cold as he would have imagined), and he was happy he could wear  slippers against the concrete floor's coldness.

 

But even as much as he wanted this, as much as he couldn't think of anything else as long as he was down there, the moment Tony stripped the overall off and slipped the thick cloak he wore outside on he began to miss Louis. And it got worse the nearer they came him, and when he stripped out of the coat and put it back on the wardrobe it was almost painful.

It shouldn't be, he knew it. Louis was a criminal. No-one nice bought someone from a slave owner and then kept him as pet. _No-one._

He knew what had happened. Natasha had explained it often enough, and he had had therapists before that - he was Anthony Edward  _Stark_ , heir of Howard Stark, owner of Stark Industries. Of course he had been schooled into what to expect, and what to do in a hostage-situation.

Stockholm Syndrome - because the victim sees no action of the people outside it feels compelled to identify with it's captor. Every little good thing the captor does makes the victim feel thankful and inclined to like the captor.

_And I shouldn't be surprised about it, should I? I knew the others would search for me, but I've only heard about it when Louis gave me access to the newspapers. And I've suffered abuse for five months - longer even than in Afghanistan, without someone to talk to, and of a very different more intimate kind, without any chance to escape to keep my will going. And then Louis appears, and he offers me everything I could want - affection, love, sun, my favorite toys to play with, safety and regular meals and sleep and showers ... no humiliation beyond some very basic ones that he does not even_ see _as humiliating me -, all in exchange for nothing but me staying here._

And I like it. _Even though the rational part of me tells me what's happening I'm eating all his affection up, and I look forward to being in his presence again, to see him again in the living room and fall to my knees beside him (okay, well, I'm not_ kneeling _. Most of the time) and lean myself against his thighs. I would be wagging my tail if I had one when he strokes my head, when he brushes my hair and_ _ calls me his beautiful pet. When he feeds me and so carefully watches me that he sees what I like and what not and offers me the former more often than the latter. _

_And I'm not even really angry at myself for it, I just want for it to never stop. For him to continue pampering me until I'm a mewling mess at his feet, rubbing my cheek against him like a cat marking my human (alien) and having him scrub me behind my ears._

The worst was, he really grew accustomed to it so much that he feared he might be dependent on it. So much that the hand playing with his hair and carefully scratching his scalp seemed more real than the footage of the newest Avenger's fight on the screen, or Pepper telling the world something, or  the stock market at th e end of the news (that he suspected they let run for his benefit, because Louis certainly never looked at it and had other means to get to know them).

But whenever his mind wandered to dark places he would find a hand running over his temple and a soft voice gently reminding him that he had better things to focus on - meals, card games, movies.

_Or him reading to me._

It was almost surreal, the way Louis' silky voice was able to capture Tony's attention. He had known that, if nothing else, the enforced stillness, waiting (more often than not in very uncomfortable positions and pain) of the last months had taught him what nothing else had ever managed -  _patience_ . The ability to actually  _focus_ on just  _one_ thing,  _one_ task without having his thoughts stray away to whatever else might interest him.

He suspected Louis' voice would have caught him anyway.

It was surreal, the way his voice could make unicorns come alive, the way Tony could smell the bitter sweetness of a certain flower, and taste the flavor of a strange fruit. The way he jerked awake when Louis stopped and the land faded away with the echo of his words.

Louis was certainly a gifted story teller, and it was ...  _strange_ . Thor always spoke only with the highest respect of the Asgardian story-tellers - why then would Louis be expected to take up another trade? It didn't add up, and it made the mystery that was Louis de St.Marin even more fascinating.

A mystery that might keep him up at night if not for the fact that he fell asleep more often than not still in the salon, exhausted by the day he had had. On the few days he was still awake when Mary and Jean went to bed Louis would help him up and then lead him to the bedroom. A quick detour to the bathroom for the toilet and to brush his teeth later he would slip under the blanket while Louis sat on his own bed, still dressed and very much awake - Tony suspected that aliens didn't have to sleep as much as mere humans -, watching him while he went to sleep.

 

It wasn't all  love, peace and harmony \- there were times he would still panic, and there were still moments he feared how Louis might react, but .. . he was content.

 

And that in itself should be fearsome enough.

 

 

 

 


	47. Disturbing News

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, now to something that a lot of you have been waiting for a long time. Hope you'll enjoy.
> 
> Also: This chapter has been beta-read by the wonderful [evilwitch66](http://archiveofourown.org/users/evilwitch66/pseuds/evilwitch66/).

Even though they had settled into a routine, that didn't mean nothing out of the ordinary happened. There were a lot of things happening the following days and weeks, even beyond watching Anthony settle in more and more.

Maybe the first thing - the first situation out of the ordinary - happened just the day after the cookies. The morning began as a sweet, normal repetition of most days - they got up slowly and showered (Anthony even eying the glittering cherry shower gel Loki kept on his shelf and Loki amusedly indulging him while making a short note to buy more different gels so he could use them on his pet), then went down for breakfast and afterwards back up to Loki's study so he could look at the mail Mikey thought he should look over -, until the moment Anthony froze over a particular page in the newspaper he read at the moment.

Laughing internally about a Christmas card a business partner had sent him - sporting a rhyme that told him to savor life because it was too short (it certainly was for these humans) - Loki didn't immediately pick up on the changing mood in his favorite human pet, but even he couldn't ignore the lack of further flipping.

More curious than anything else he looked up to see what had captured Anthony's interest, just to find that he had grown pale and gooseflesh had come to life on his arms while his wide eyes were trained unblinking on the page he was currently occupied with.

Now having taken note of his pet's distressed state he heard the rapid breathing -  _something was very much not okay_ .

Trying to find out what had Anthony in such a state he tilted his head so he could see the newspaper better and saw that Anthony was staring at the lower side of the page where, next to some people complaining about ridiculous noises their neighbors were making and a report about increasing robberies (was that anything new?) there was also an article about a missing girl, Catherine W., together with the picture of a rather strikingly blond girl.

Suspecting what may have happened he moved his hand so it was resting against Anthony's head, slowly carding his fingers through the strands as if he hadn't noticed him flinching away at first contact.

"Do you know her?" Sometimes straight-on was the best way to get a good answer.

It took the man a while to reply, and when he did his voice sounded distant, barely there. "I've met her. When I was ... with  _her_ . She was ... she was in the cage next to me." His voice almost broke at the next words. "She called herself  _Kat_ ."

Loki didn't know what to say to that. He couldn't care less for that mortal that he had never met, but it angered him that she - her treatment - caused Anthony such distress. Another point against the Mistress.

Not knowing what to do he angled his chair so that he was facing in Anthony's direction and pulled him in until his head rested against his thigh, his hand still in Anthony's hair reminding him that he was safe now from the clutches of that woman.

"She ... she was so broken. I thought she had to be with them for ... I don't know. For months, years." Something that might be a sob, a shiver running down his spine, but he leaned more fully into Loki's hold. "They had her for barely more than a month. She was - is - 23. Beautiful. And they broke her ..."

"You are not broken", Loki said. "And you never will be." Because who would be able to break  _this_ spirit, extinguish  _this_ soul-fire?

The silence that answered him was unexpected. He hadn't thought Anthony would voice his agreement, but this had another quality to it. This felt like ... defeat.

He changed his grip on the other so he could press his head up at the jaw. "You will not be", he said, his voice stern and sure. "You are not that kind of man."

The way he held Anthony meant he could see his eyes, but he could not really read the look in them - surprise, denial, fear. He swallowed against the pressure of Loki's hand against his Adams apple, then nodded a bit. Hesitatingly.

Knowing he wouldn't get better at the moment Loki just looked him sternly in the eye before releasing him. But he made sure that his chair stayed next to Anthony, and that the man himself was leaning against his thighs - not as much as before, and sideways, but still in contact with Loki's body - so he could help ground himself in the present.

Returning to his paperwork was much harder now - he could see, and feel, and hear, that Anthony was still looking at the girl's picture, and he wanted, so badly, to turn the page but this was not  _his_ battle, and there was only so much he could do - provide comfort in the form of his warmth, his strength, his support. And he could feel that the man was soaking it up - could feel it in the way his head pressed against Loki's thigh, the way he snuggled in the hand that still rested upon his head, every once in a while continuing its play with his hair when Loki felt him become undone again.

But it was not until at last the harsh whisper of paper told him that the page was turned that Loki could relax and focus once more on his paperwork, even though all the while he was very aware of the way Anthony sat next to him - huddled into himself and pressed against Loki as if he was the last solid thing left in his world.

  
  


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It was later, while they sat down for lunch - sandwiches and vegetables; Jean was obviously still angry about his temper flaring up yesterday - and he looked at Sigyn sitting opposite him that he realized something: he didn't want to go spar today.

And less so because of what Sigyn would put him through (but that, too; he hated the axe with a passion that triumphed easily even over his feeling for, say,  _Thor_ ) but more because ... Anthony had to struggle with the truth about this girl already, and after what he had been through in the last days ...  _months_ ... he should be able to do something more fun, maybe even outside...

But he couldn't just announce that he didn't want to spar - Sigyn wouldn't let him get away with this - nor could he exclude just Anthony or the man's precious pride would get damaged once again.

Deep in thought he looked out of the window where the storm of the night before had left heaps of stark white snow, listening with half an ear while Jean complained about having to shovel snow.

A sudden thought made his lips curl and he turned back to the conversation.

"Sigyn can help you", he offered, earning a glare from her - she was not against manual work, but she was an Aesir through and through - a child of the sun, not of winter. "As well as Anthony and I", he added.

And Jean knew that something was cooking, as his raised eyebrow showed. "Helping me.  _You_ . When, exactly, have you started taking an interest in helping me? You haven't accidentally developed a conscience?"

Oh yes, he was still mad at Loki.

"No", he agreed. "But if I wait for you to finish the work alone you won't be able to create a more than acceptable dinner tonight." Ok, well, that was mean but Loki refused to feel bad about it.

" _Acceptable_ ", Jean growled. 

But then, he couldn't know why Loki had chosen this. "Of course. I expect you to be able to create something edible even while half dead", he said, not missing a beat.

"And you are sure you don't just want to avoid your training?" Jean needled, while Sigyn had obviously already made the correct assumption and looked at Anthony with a speculative air. Anthony on the other hand was still as oblivious as Jean and Mary ... well, that secret little smirk could mean anything.

"Of course not. I'm not a coward to shy away from hard work."

Jean glowered at him. "Did you just call me lazy?"

Loki grinned. "And are you a little lazy boy?"

He opened his mouth to reply, than closed it again and took a deep breath. "You know what, I think I'm not going to say anything to this." Then a look to Sigyn. "It seems he insulted you, too. Wanna bet we can shovel snow faster than he?"

Sigyn's lips curled. "I would be surprised if not", she agreed.

Well, not what Loki had in mind, but it wasn't as if he could lose this fight - by the Nine, he was a frost giant! "Challenge accepted", he said and ate the last of his with cheese baked peach-ham-sandwich before looking at Anthony who had finished a while ago and was now only nibbling on a piece of cucumber. "Are you ready?"

The man blinked surprised at him. "Ready?", he asked, frowning slightly while he swallowed the last of the cucumber.

"You don't believe I would let you go out the way you are? You would be catching a cold, and I would really prefer to avoid that."

Still obviously puzzling about what Loki meant Anthony did stand up and followed Loki up into his bed chamber where Loki turned to him and assessed him thoroughly.

Not that he hadn't been watching this beautiful body a good many times now, and very intimately remembered how it felt to stroke and touch it, but he had never before tried to figure out ...

"Well, we're going to need magic", he concluded in the end with a sigh. Nothing of his clothes would fit Anthony, and to ask Jean ... no. After yesterday he should probably be very nice to him - the man had a way to make his life very unenjoyable if he wanted.

But that was later. For now ... Loki disappeared into his closet, skimming over the rows of clothes in every possible color (though, yes, he still preferred green and black) until he found what he had searched for.

The jeans he brought out were very thick and almost black, the long-sleeved shirt a golden yellow and the sweater made from warm dark red wool. In addition a pair of thick socks and winter boots that he had bought in a spur-of-the-moment action but never came around to change to his size, mostly because he didn't need them. For a moment he contemplated whether to add a pair of boxers, but with what he had observed about Midgardians and their opinion about sharing clothes, he supposed that it was better to do without it.

Every single bit of the clothes would be too long, and probably very tight, but that's what magic was for.

"I suppose you still know how to dress yourself?", he asked and laid the clothes out on the bed next to Anthony.

Who stared at him as if he had said something very foreign. "You ... you want me to wear that?", he asked, in a rather small, unsure voice that Loki wouldn't have expected. " _Clothes_ ?"

Loki turned to him and smiled softly, his hand touching Anthony's cheek. "I like you naked", he admitted freely - there was no point in lying about something that was so obvious. "But not to the point that I would take you out into the snow without clothes." Well, he could. His magic would be able to keep Anthony warm enough if he intended that, but it would probably be very uncomfortable to both him and Jean.

_Humans._

Slowly Anthony nodded and then began dressing, and it was almost scary, the way it changed his  _Anthony_ into  _Tony Stark, owner of Stark Industries._ The clothes, even as unfitting as they were (too long, barely closable over the chest and in the waist) took his vulnerability and gave him self-confidence, took the beautiful boy and made him into a very handsome man.

Then he turned and looked up to Loki and the illusion broke. There, in the unsure look on his face, was still  _Anthony_ , broken and sweet and dependent.

But that wasn't all. While his eyes still betrayed what he had been through, while they still spoke of his feelings about Loki, there was a new quality to it. A ... for lack of a better word one might say a deeper connection. As if Loki had done more than just giving him clothes, but a part of his self, his humanity back.

Slowly, hesitatingly Loki realized that he may have misjudged how much clothes meant to humans - at least these who lived so unlike any Aesir.

No Aesir would ever fear being naked, but no Aesir would also ever be found unarmed. And in a society like this, where weapons were unusual, clothing may very well be the equal to Thor's hammer, or Sigyn's spear, or Loki's knives, and he knew how he felt without them.

He wanted his Anthony to heal. And he knew without a doubt that no Aesir would ever heal fully, would become himself again, as long as he was denied weapons. Could it be that this meant Anthony would require clothing to heal?

Not sure what to make of this he looked up into Anthony's self-conscious face and smiling encouragingly he reached out again and pressed his hand lightly against the clothes. "Don't startle", he warned, and then let his magic flow into the clothing.

Of course he did startle - it was inevitable, really - when golden light shimmered over them and let them stretch in the width while simultaneously shorten them until they were fitting the man wearing them as if they had been made for him. Another pulse of power, and he wove heat into them as well, so he would be warm no matter what.

"You look beautiful, my pet", he told him and smoothed non-existent wrinkles out of the sweater.

Anthony smiled and looked down at the floor. "Thank you", he said, and they both knew it wasn't only for the compliment.

Loki didn't point out that he would only wear the clothes for the time being - he was not sure anymore whether that was true - but just returned the smile and led him down into the snowy garden.

  
  


  
  


  
  


 

 


	48. Clothes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, a big Thank You to evilwitch66 for beta-reading. Any mistakes still in the text are mine and mine alone.

Seeing the picture of the girl almost broke him.

It was strange - the morning had begun like every other, maybe even better - it seemed Louis had done something to rile Jean up and watching the smaller man tease him over the whole breakfast was quite amusing, more so because he didn't fear Louis lashing out at him in retaliation anymore.

So he had been in high spirits when he followed Louis up to his office and even the less pleasant news couldn't dampen his mood too much.

Well, not until seeing  _her_ picture, reading  _her_ story, remembering the lost look in  _her_ eyes.

_The broken way in which she had whispered: "Kat."_

Catherine W.

Shivering he recalled that only a few months ago he would have sworn that he would come rescue her. Would have sworn that there was nothing he couldn't do.

Now ... now the memory of Iron Man was less a reassurance and more a shiny background to what he had become.

Maybe he was still clinging to his past, his pride, but in the end he was broken just like her - not fully, but then he had more years to fuel his pride, and they hadn't quite managed to beat that out of him - and he was owned and should his master ever ...

Coldness seeped into his bones, pooled as ice in his stomach and even reminding himself that Louis wouldn't hurt him couldn't make it go away.

He could do nothing to help himself, could do even less to help her.

_Even if I were released today, Iron Man is dead. He will never save people anymore._

The thought was frightening, and he also shouldn't feel relieved that he wouldn't be released, that he was safe from someone,  _anyone_ looking to him for support, for help. Shivering he sat there, staring unblinking at the blurring letters on the paper in front of him and feeling how the darkness of fear and desperation swallowed him up, felt himself tumble down into the endless void ...

A warm hand stroking over his head brought him back and he couldn't help but startle when he felt it.

"Do you know her?"

The soft-voiced question was a relief - something else he could focus on. Still, he needed a long long moment to find his voice again and when he did he sounded strange even to his own ears. "I've met her. When I was ... with  _her_ ." The Mistress. But he wouldn't speak  _her_ name. "She was ... she was in the cage next to me." Closed his eyes, inhaled, exhaled. "She called herself Kat."

Catherine. Beautiful name. Beautiful girl. Now butchered and only a shadow of herself.

A scraping noise behind him announced that Louis had shifted his chair, then the hand in his hair became more forceful, pulling him in until he rested his head against Louis' thigh.

It wasn't as comfortable as when they did it in the afternoon, but the sense of safety, of strength he got from it was the same, let him relax a bit.

His eyes burned and he forced them closed - he would not cry like a baby - but a dam had been broken by the simple show of support and affection and he felt his mouth open again. "She ... she was so broken. I thought she had to had been with them for ... I don't know. For months, years." That was what had him reeling the most - that she had been broken so fast. Why wasn't he broken? Or was he broken and just didn't know it ...?

A sob broke free and he turned even more into the hold, trying to explain his distress. "They had her for barely more than a month. She was - is - 23. Beautiful. And they broke her ..."

"You are not broken", a soft but sure voice answered. "And you never will be."

He couldn't say anything to this - he couldn't believe it.

But obviously Louis did, for he pulled his face up until he had to look into his eyes and said in a stern but warm voice: "You will not be. You are not that kind of man."

Oh, how Tony longed to believe this!

And in a way, hearing it spoken aloud - seeing how Louis  _demanded_ that it was true - made it easier, as if Louis really could change the reality, and he felt himself nod almost unconsciously.

Still, it took him a long while until he could return to his reading, and he was endlessly thankful for the warm hand in his hair, keeping him safe, and the strong thigh in his back giving him strength.

  
  


?Â¿

  
  


He should have seen it coming, really. It wasn't anything new, after all.

But still, sitting down here on his cushion and eating baked toast - it was good,  _really_ good, but Anthony suspected that it was also a way of Jean showing Louis that he was still angry at him - he had to remember that he would go down into the gym later, and ... he wanted to back out. The thought of having to fight, even if it was just his own weakness, was too daunting a task to imagine.

So he tried to focus on his sandwiches and, when they were gone far too fast, on the gently dance of snowflakes on the other side of the glass door while he nibbled on pieces of cucumber and pepper.

Maybe it was because of this that he missed the beginning of the light banter between Jean and Louis until Jean said, his voice quite incredulous: "Helping me.  _You_ ."

Blinking he tried to understand what they were talking about but only when Jean challenged Louis who would shovel the snow faster did he understand.

Shoveling the snow from the driveway.

He had never done this, and while he imagined that it would be hard as well, it would at least be outside.  _If_ Louis let him come, but the way his hand had snuck down during the meal to touch him whenever he had forgotten eating over his own thoughts, the way he kept him near to him even more than normal led him to believe he wouldn’t be left alone inside.

And maybe he wouldn't have to spar at all today. The thought lifted his spirit immensely.

_Not to mention that there are other things one can do in the snow. Though I'm not sure what Louis would think about having a snowball thrown at him._

He was still deep in thoughts when Louis looked down at him and asked: "Are you ready?"

"Ready?", he replied, shoving the last bit of cucumber in his mouth.

Louis raised an eyebrow. "You don't believe I would let you go out the way you are? You're going to catch a cold, and I would really prefer to avoid that."

Did he ... could he mean what Tony thought he meant? Probably not, the way he had avoided it in the past.

But when they reached Louis' room the man - after a short but thorough scrutiny of Anthony and a comment about needing magic - walked into his closet and came back with a heap of clothes over his arm which he laid out over the bed.

"I suppose you still know how to dress yourself?", he asked.

Tony ...  _didn't know what he felt_ . "You ... you want me to wear that?", he asked in a faint, unsure voice. "Clothes?"

Louis turned to him and smiled encouragingly, his hand touching Anthony's cheek. "I like you naked", he said and Tony shivered at the honesty in his voice. "But not to the point that I take you out in the snow without clothes."

And, well, that was right. Tony was no alien capable of living in arctic temperatures. And giving him clothes was probably the least problematic course.

Still, he hesitated a moment longer until he grabbed for the clothes, and even then just because he was loath to admit that he had gotten used to being naked to the point that wearing anything beyond his cloak or coat was actually ... intimidating.

Louis hadn't given him underwear, but that was okay - he really didn't want to wear another's boxers, and it wasn't as if he hadn't been running around without often enough.

_Before_ .

He began with the shirt. Being without cover of his crown jewels wasn't anything new, but he had spent too much time covering up first his ARC-reactor and later the scars that made him feel even more like a freak. And wearing it he really immediately felt better - not only dressed, but almost ... more real? More human?

As expected the shirt was too tight, and while the shoulders, unexpectedly, sat almost right - he had never noticed how broad shouldered the other man was - the sleeves were a good bit too long, falling over his wrists and hands. The jeans were similar - long at the feet, but tight on his thighs and groin so that he hesitated before closing it, neither wanting to cause himself harm nor accidentally ripping the trousers, but in the end he complied with the order he had been given, hoping the comment Louis' about needing magic had something to do with making the clothes fit.

Maybe Louis did this for his own clothes as well. It would certainly explain why they always fit him as if they were made for him (though maybe they  _were_ made for him – Louis was rich, after all).

After that he sat down to pull on the socks - warm black cotton-socks that could have kept even Pepper's feet warm - and the boots - which were too big, as well -, reveling in the feel of them covering up his toes.

At last the sweater before he stood up again, facing Louis uncertainly and hoping he would approve and maybe allow him clothing more often.

Well, he obviously  _did_ approve, if the way he smiled upon seeing him was any indication. Even more - he reached out and laid a hand against Tony's chest as if he wanted to feel it on his skin.

"Don't startle", he said, but before Tony could think what might make him do so a golden glow enveloped the material.

Of course he did startle, but since Louis didn't react to it he relaxed again - a task that was made even easier by the fact that his clothes suddenly fit.

Surprised he looked up - directly into Louis' assessing eyes.

"You look beautiful, my pet", he said and stroked along Tony's side, a shiver following his hand that Tony feared had nothing to do with magic.

Embarrassed by the look and the compliment both Tony looked down at the floor and whispered: "Thank you", knowing he meant much more than just the praise.

He meant that Louis had allowed him to wear clothes. Had allowed him to ... he was feeling better now that the soft cotton of the shirt hid his scars - a source of insecurity under any circumstances, more so now. That the rougher material of the jeans covered his ass that had been used and abused so often, and his cock which had been manipulated too much by malevolent hands. That a sweater promised him warmth where he had been left in the cold and socks and shoes protected toes people had stepped on more than once, rarely as a mistake.

It made him feel more secure, more like a human, more like ... like  _himself_ . He felt how he stood straighter when he hadn’t even realized that he had slouched before, instinctively trying to hide from the human predators. Hadn’t realized how much it really bothered him to be denied clothes until he was dressed.

Hadn’t realized how much difference it made to have this armor of fabric between himself and the world, and how much he wanted,  _needed_ this now when in the past he too often wouldn’t have bothered with it. Like he hadn’t known how much he relied on the Iron Man suit before he couldn’t live without it anymore, just in a very different and yet strangely equal way.

But he couldn’t put it in words how much this meant to him, what it gave him, and "Thank you" seemed to be a very inadequate way to voice his feelings. Yet Louis simply returned his smile, seeming to understand him as he apparently did so often, and led him downstairs where Jean was standing right inside the door, putting on his coat.

"You really took your time", he said without turning around. "Sigyn's already outside to get the tools."

Louis chuckled. "Maybe we should tell her that this is no real war", he said and took the coat down he had always given Tony, handing it over to him with a grin. "It's not as if it will do her any good."

"Well, I'm quite happy with her being so eager - when she's taking care of the one half of the snow, and you of the second, then there isn't much left for me." Jean fought with the zipper for a moment before pulling it up. “It has to be good for something to have two insanely strong aliens in the house.”

"Oh, you fragile little thing, unable to shovel a bit of snow", Louis answered amused and bowed down to the other, pressing a short kiss to his hair.

Tony certainly did not feel jealous.

"Stop calling me a  _thing_ !", Jean protested and turned around - stopping short and blinking hard when he saw Tony. "Oh. You look different", he said.

Well, not surprisingly. But still - the way he said it made Tony feel vaguely uncomfortable in his own skin and he was glad when Louis gave Jean a little wink to shoo him outside. He didn't want to think about how much he - and everyone else - had gotten used to him being naked.

But standing in the snow quickly chased these kind of thoughts away.

It was white everywhere, an untouched blanket of glistening snow covering the earth apart from the trails left behind by birds and squirrels, and another set probably belonging to Sigyn. The bushes and trees were covered in thick fluffy whiteness, and there was no way to discern the driveway from the grass. Above the sky was clear blue - no sight of the snow storm of the night before - and the milky sun was glittering in thousands of snow crystals, bringing little rainbows to life.

Coldness bit into his nose and ears, but that was just another amazing feeling, reminding Tony that he was warm and covered by clothes everywhere else.

Short - he completely forgot about his troubles and found his spirit being lifted so high that he could barely contain the urge to loudly whoop and roll himself in the snow.

And going by the amused huff behind him Louis shared his sentiment.

 


	49. A day in the snow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll admit, this chapter is a bit silly ... but than they are all in a silly mood (except Sigyn who's as deadly serious as she's always ^-~ )
> 
> Also, again a big thanks to evilwitch66 for beta-reading this chapter.

Going out had clearly been the right idea, Loki thought while he watched how Anthony brightened under the clear sky. He seemed to have absolutely forgotten that only a few hours earlier nothing but Loki's presence stood between him and a panic meltdown, so ...  _happy_ did he look.

Remembering how the man had reacted the first time he brought him out - exactly the same way - Loki resolved to take him out more often. Being in the sun, under a (mostly) clear and bright sky, was obviously something that cheered him up, and Loki knew all too well how much he needed that.

Since he was busy contemplating Anthony he didn't exactly follow what Jean said to him, but he did certainly feel the snowball connecting with his chest. Looking up he saw Jean grin widely, then, when Loki felt an answering, more than a bit evil grin stretch his lips, turn alarmed and run forward over the snow, trying to escape his revenge by searching out Sigyn.

It only took Loki a moment to bow down and scoop up enough snow to form a ball before pressing it in form - his Aesir body was warm enough that it got hard very fast - and then turn to Anthony.

The man seemed alarmed - did he fear Loki would throw the ball at him? - so Loki grinned easily and said: "Come. Or do you want them to win?"

Biting his lips uncertainly Anthony answered: "Are we ...  _really_ competing in shoveling snow?"

Loki grinned. That was easy. "As long as it makes Sigyn do what I want her to do? Of course." Sudden concern reared its head and he reached over and stroked along Anthony's cheek. "You are capable of participating, aren't you? If you would rather stay inside ..." He didn’t want him to overwork himself just because Loki said so.

The other man shook his head no, suddenly grinning all over his face. "No-no, I want", he said, clearly enthusiastic. A smirk curled his lips, and Loki saw a spark of mischief in his brown eyes, turning them into beautiful jewels. "And I would like to see you winning against Sigyn." A faint blush colored his cheeks but he refused to hide his face or the still gleaming eyes even though he ducked his head in a bit.

Surprise caught Loki's tongue for a moment, but not willing to have the spark die under worry again he let an answering smirk appear on his lips and said: "Good, then let's go." And with that he released Anthony and followed the trail Jean and Sigyn had left in the snow, leading up to the garage where Jean stored the tools.

When they arrived - Loki carefully aligning his speed to Anthony's stumble; not having the muscles for walking in the snow combined with new shoes wasn't the best combination and Loki made a mental note to check whether Anthony suffered blisters from this exercise later - Sigyn had already pulled everything out - two snow pushers, a broom and a scrub.

"We thought we would pair up - Sigyn with me and Anthony with you", Jean explained. "You can do the hard work - being super powered aliens and all that - and we meek weak humans just do the rest." His grin stretched almost to the ears.

"So, you thought so", Loki commented, deliberately without inflection even though he knew that it wouldn't make Jean unsure in the least. The same way he refused to look intimidated by the snowball Loki now feigned to throw up and down in his hand absentmindedly - he had to know that the ball - having been clasped hard in Loki's warm aesir hand for a while now - had to be almost fully ice by now and that his boss would never throw it at him for fear he would harm him.

It was Sigyn who broke their contest in nonchalance by shoving the broom in Jean's chest - having him stare at her with a betrayed look on his face -, then waving the broom at Anthony. "Here, or they are going to continue this for the rest of the day." Her exasperated grin showed her amusement by that.

Anthony grinned back then went over and took the broom.

"Okay", Sigyn continued. "I think Jean and I will take the way from the gate up, and you work down. Whoever reaches the middle first, wins. Geddit?"

Loki felt his brow rise - he hadn't thought she would  _really_ go this far.

...

Who was he kidding - this was  _Sigyn_ . She could turn eating candies into a challenge.

"Wins what?", he drawled now, smiling.

Sigyn blinked, obviously not having thought that far, but Jean was easily coming to her help. "The winner chooses dinner tomorrow." A challenge shone in his eyes, and Loki was quick to answer it.

"And here I thought you would need longer than the few hours you will have left after you return from your shopping trip" he knew that Jean would stay out till the early afternoon, as he was wont to do on his monthly shopping trips, and then need even more time to store everything away. "To prepare my Salmon Rolls."

Jean's eyebrows rose. "That's only going to be a problem when you win, and I really don't think that's going to happen. Not to mention - did you ask Anthony whether he likes salmon, too?"

Probably. They were filled with a pesto made from pine nuts, basil and Gouda, served together with an asparagus panna cotta and the only reason Jean hated to make it was that it took around 5 hours to prepare. But there was no reason to say as much, was there? "Well, you might be right", he grinned. "That would then be cheeseburger for lunch the day after tomorrow, and Salmon Rolls for dinner." He turned to the other man, cocked his head and asked: "You want cheeseburgers, correct?"

Staring at him wide-eyed - but also amused as the glint within these gorgeous brown eyes showed - Anthony nodded.

"You still have to win", Jean warned with narrowed eyes.

Loki grinned. "Then you should probably start, or we're going to meet you before you even lose sight of the gate."

A huff from Sigyn, then they both took their tools and went on their way - Jean carefully following in the path Sigyn made with her greater strength. Grinning after them he threw the snowball -  _ice_ ball now, more likely - in the bushes, startling a few curious naiades that scowled at him angrily. Rash he inclined his head in apology - not that they could really do anything to him but they made excellent gardeners and almost as good watchdogs, and it wouldn't do him any good to anger them.

Looking over to Anthony who had taken his broom up and was now standing there looking a bit forlorn Loki felt himself getting concerned. He had just assumed ... "You  _are_ okay, my Anthony?"

The man startled and looked up at him with wide eyes, obviously not comprehending what Loki meant.

Coming closer he slid his hand over his pet's shoulder, trying to make him feel safe while simultaneously finding out what had him so shaken. "You want to shovel snow, don't you? Or are you cold?" Yes, he had already asked, and Anthony had seemed enthusiastic, but ...

The look he received for his concern - big eyes, half-opened mouth - showed a level of surprise he didn't want to find there. He had been careful all the time, and to find him still surprised by this ...

"I've thought of my father", Anthony cut through his thoughts, and, well, he knew enough about Anthony's childhood to understand that even his own relationship to Odin had probably been better.

And this were wounds that weren't so easily healed.

"What of him?", he asked, stroking along where Anthony's neck wasn't covered by the leather necklace and the collar of the coat and felt him lean into the comforting touch.

It still took him a while to continue. "When I was small ... we had a house. I mean, I still have it, but I've not been there in forever. I ... the memories, you know?" A short silence while Loki's caressing hands worked their way up over the jaw and cheek of the other, stroking and soothing, trying to take the sting of the old memory. "Well ... in winter we had someone to take care of the snow. I mean, he was the gardener, but there wasn't much he did in winter but taking care of the greenhouse and shoveling snow. It wasn't really interesting, but in the holidays ... sometimes his kids accompanied him. They were younger than me - five years, and Tess seven years - but ... they were building snowmen and snowwomen. And throwing snowballs at each other and at Jon - that's the gardener."

His voice sounded wistful and Loki feared he knew where this was going. "What did your father say to that?"

"Oh, as long as they weren't trampling over the plants it was okay - and Jon would have had their hides before him if they did." But that wasn't was bothering him, and so Loki simply waited until Anthony lost his pretended frivolity and continued much more subdued: "They always looked as if they had so much fun. You know, I've never had real friends at school - doesn't really work if you can't bring someone home or go to them - so I've never had really fun in the holidays ... I mean, I had my workshop and all, but ... it's just not the same, you know? Anyway, I wanted to join them." His casualness failed him and he leaned even more into Loki's touch. Amazed by how much trust he was given Loki just put his other hand at his lower back, subtly supporting him.

"Dad ... wasn't happy about it." That was all he said, but there was a world of pain hidden in these few words.

Loki really wished he knew how to deal with that, but when he was honest he had to admit that he had never learned to deal with a shitty father figure himself, so how should he help someone else through it?

Maybe in the same way he tried to deal with it - reminding himself that the world moved on. "He is not here now", he said in Anthony's ear, his breath creating warmth over the cold red peak and he wove a new spell in his next exhale to keep his pet warm even without hat (though he should probably get him one if he continued to take him out; all this spells would just make his brilliant mind suspicious) while he continued: " _I_ am. And  _you_ are, and Jean and Sigyn. And if we have time" they would have time, even if Loki had to use magic to clear the path or help Jean prepare dinner "we can throw a few snowballs later, too." Planting a quick kiss on Anthony's forehead he concluded more playfully: "We just have to shovel all this snow away first."

And Anthony reacted to his tone like a flower to the sun, let himself get pulled out of his melancholy and returned his grin with a hesitant smile. "I think you are supposed to begin", he said, his forward words seeming to surprise himself.

Grinning Loki left his side and took up his own tool. "Then let's go. For" He hesitated for a moment -  _For blood and glory_ , Asgards slogan, seemed a bit unfitting - but then Anthony filled in, grinning: "For cheeseburgers and Salmon Rolls."

Blinking Loki looked at him, then felt his grin spread further over his face. "For cheeseburgers and Salmon Rolls", he agreed and brandished his snow pusher like a weapon before setting to work.

It wasn't really hard, at least not for him. Despite being built like a woman - as he had heard often enough - he had well trained muscles from all the fighting and riding, not to mention the work one did when he lives alone with only a guard somewhere out in the woods as some of his magic studies had demanded (there was nothing better than to distance yourself from Thor when one wants to focus). Being an avatar gave him additional strength so that his Jotun instincts for snow and ice were only a bonus.

But a bonus that might give him the victory over Sigyn - in all honesty he was not sure if they could beat the other two, what with Anthony still being weak. But he would rather suffer chili con carne (he loved it) and chicken tikka masala (made by Jean he could understand why it was the boy's favorite dish; something he had never understood as long as he only knew the one from the Indian diner around the corner) than have Anthony cold and unhappy after a victory.

Though he shouldn't discount Anthony's own lust to win. Maybe it was the outlook to maybe play in the snow later, maybe it was just that he was outside and doing something entirely different, but the man was eagerly sweeping the snow that fell away from Loki's pusher to the side, carefully avoiding to put snow where there were bushes to avoid damaging them.

And considering that Loki himself was fast, too, they might really have a chance.

An hour and three breaks - one when Mary brought them a thermos bottle full of warm tea that they shared between them even though Loki left the greater share to Anthony; the human needed both liquid and warmth more than him - later they reached a point where Loki could hear the other two, and he gleefully noted that not only were Anthony and he further along their path (Sigyn and he had measured out the driveway when they first moved in and he knew exactly where the halfway-point was) but also that they were quarreling like an old couple.

And of all things they could argue over it was about how best to pack the snow they had shoveled aside.

Loki really hoped they hadn't been on this for the whole time, though he suspected they had. Sigyn had no practice whatsoever of how to shovel snow but she would never admit it, and Jean might be in the right, but he was also unable to bend the mind of someone as stubborn as her, or realize it and give in until she saw her mistake herself.

Maybe he should tell him to make his chicken tikka masala and the chili, too, in the next few days - after this they had clearly earned it.

Grinning he continued to shovel snow until they reached the invisible point that marked their goal and Loki turned to Anthony to carefully take the broom out of his hands.

His startled look told him that he had heard the others in the meantime, too - though they were still invisible behind a small bend in the way and a thick oleander-bush - and not knowing they had reached their destination already thought they should continue even faster.

Smiling Loki took him by the hand and led him over to a tree-stump only a few meter aside from the road, brushing the snow from it and then put just enough pressure on his shoulder to let him know he was supposed to sit down. He hoped that the spells he had woven into the coat that first time would keep him warm and dry, but at the moment the man clearly needed to sit down and take a break if his red face and the exhausted shivering in his knees - he should have been more observant instead of listening to Jean and Sigyn, damn it! - was anything to go by.

"Shouldn't we ... I mean ...", began Anthony before he obviously caught on and said, his mouth slowly widening in a grin: "We won?"

Loki returned the grin easily as if there had never been a question of their victory. "Of course." Lowering himself next to the other man he relished the nearness of him as well as his earthy scent, so different to the clear cold flavor of the winter day and yet mingling more than pleasantly with it, while he observed how Sigyn and Jean slowly came into view.

Though watching how they realized they had been bested and then searched for a few moments until they found Loki and Anthony resting beside the road was almost as good. He loved the most when Jean made a very obscene gesture their way that had Anthony silently shaking in laughter against his side.

It took them only a few more minutes to finish their part of the road and by the time they cleared the last of the snow away Loki scooped up a handful of snow, formed it into ball and made his way over to them, a newly recovered Anthony following in his wake. He waited only as long as Sigyn had shoved the last snow to the side and then looked up, obviously trying for an accomplished face - which he ruined by throwing the snow right into it.

She stared at him astonished for a moment - and he was really lucky to be the man she had to protect or her reflexes would have taken over and he would now be involved in a fight of the less fun variation - then a hard look passed over her face promising war while she bend over, scooping up snow herself from the wall next to her.

Loki felt himself grinning. Even he had always had someone to play with, whether he was game or not. And between his idiot brother and his idiot friends - not to mention Loki's idiot friends - he had been caught in games of roughhousing much too often.

So for Anthony to never have had someone to have a snowball fight with ...

Well, he was going to have one now.

  
  


  
  


 

 


	50. Poking the ice dragon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, took me a while to get this up ... but it's extra-long!
> 
> Thanks again to [evilwitch66](http://archiveofourown.org/users/evilwitch66/pseuds/evilwitch66//) for beta-reading.

Anthony had anticipated going out and sweeping snow would be okay only in comparison to being locked up inside in the gym.

He couldn't have been more wrong. Between Sigyn and Louis trying to rile each other up, Jean's flippant words and overexcited behavior, and the triumphant smile Louis showed him whenever they had managed to clear a new part of the driveway he felt as warm on the inside as he could only wish for. And that didn't even count Louis making him take a break whenever he needed it, or Mary bringing them warm tea in a thermos bottle, or the soft scrape of fabric over his bare skin whenever he moved, all of them making him feel warm on the outside as well (okay, aside from the tips of his ears and nose, but even they weren't as cold as he would have expected).

And above all it felt nice to shovel the snow. Similar to how it felt working through Asgard's Trials or helping Jean cook, but somehow more than both of them - it was harder than cutting peppers, but he could see his accomplishments in a way he couldn't while working out. And the sense of having done something, the sense of  _worth_ he got from looking back at the gray and beige stones of the pathway, almost clear of snow now, made him just bury himself even deeper in the work, drove him forward and filled him with an unexpected joy.

Not even his Dad's memory could take this from him, least of all now that it was overshadowed by Louis' hands soothing the pain, his eyes burning with anger against the man, and his words promising safety from the sting this had once carried.

And the promise of a snowball fight.

Tony knew he shouldn't be so excited about this - it was something for children after all, and while his father might have been wrong to belittle him for his wish when he was ten, or twelve, he was an adult now and had been for decades. He  _knew_ that snowball fights were for kids.

Well, he had never been good at acting like an adult anyway. And if throwing frosted H 2 O was what was needed to make him feel happy Howard could very well fuck off.

And anyway, watching Louis throw a snowball right into Sigyn's face? That was one of the coolest things he had ever seen.

It didn't take long after that for them all to descend into a laughing horde of kids, throwing snow and ducking to avoid being hit themselves, and while Tony was only too aware that both Louis and Sigyn were careful to not use their full strength behind their throws, or their full speed when they ducked, he just chose to ignore that in favor of grinning whenever he hit one of them, or saw Jean getting hit.

Not that he didn't get his share of hits, too. There was snow on his coat, snow in his ear, snow (or much rather, water) sliding down his back and there would even be snow in his mouth had Louis not tugged him aside just in time.

Actually, somehow during the fight they had formed two teams again - Jean and Sigyn on one side, Louis and Tony on the other. Not that he thought to complain - Louis had a way with snow that made Tony believe he might come from a frosted planet originally (hadn't Thor told them about a snow planet? Jotenheim or something like that? Where Loki came from? Surely there could have been more kids from there, or there were some other cold places in the universe where Aesir adopted kids from). Not to mention Sigyn's reaction when he had changed into his real, blue form, some time after they had started - she had been pissed, to say the least. And, well, when you are in a snow fight you always want to be on the side of the cold blue alien with the snow-affinity, don't you?

How right he had been - and how right Sigyn had been to complain - he became aware of when suddenly a snow pillar rose out of the snow in front of him to protect him from a snowball thrown by Sigyn. When she loudly complained Louis just told her that "That's not cheating, that's using all one's talents" before making another movement with his hand and fingers and suddenly more pillars and walls rose out of the snowed-over lawn, forming something of a fort around the two of them.

Stunned Tony turned back to the man, whose blue skin was now patterned with darker blue lines, as if the pale lines he had observed the last time he had seen Louis in this form were now filled with cobalt-blue blood. "That's amazing!", he said, before realizing: "You could have won that snow-shovel challenge easily!"

Louis laughed. "Of course. But where would be the fun in that?" And with that he jumped on the chest-high wall in front of them, moved his hands and while the blue of his lines increased in darkness - it just _had_ to have something to do with his power over the snow - made another fort rise out of the snow. "Just so you won't complain about me cheating anymore!", he called over to Sigyn, a grin all over his face. "If you lose now, you have just yourself to blame!"

An enraged cry was their only answer, right before a very hard ball shattered against the wall behind them, flying right through where Louis had stood only moments earlier.

The man himself, having rescued himself by quickly jumping down on the floor again, turned grinning to Tony. "Well, I think the brave captain is enraged now." He didn't seem bothered in the least, and Tony couldn't help but return his grin -  _this was fun!_

And it continued to be, during them both forming snowballs - Tony was actually better at that for Louis' hands were very cold; Tony's hands became a bit cold, too, but mostly his inner warmth kept them at a normal temperature - and also throwing them at Sigyn and Jean, carefully aiming and ignoring the calls of  _Cheater!_ whenever Louis managed an almost impossible hit. He just wished he had the time and material to build a catapult - he really wished he could throw the snowballs at the both of them faster.

In the end it was his lacking strength that had them stopping. Enjoying their game as much as he did Tony hadn't realized how exhausted he had become, how much strain it was to throw the snow over to the other fort, until Louis called a loud stop and turned to him, reaching for his forehead with a blue hand before cursing (not that Tony understood the curse, but the tone was pretty much distinct) and changing back to his pale rosy form.

The hand felt still cold against his skin, and from the frown that marred Louis' brow that was no resident coldness from his other form.

And indeed: "We have to stop - Anthony is exhausted, and I would rather he does not suffer an illness from our play."

Sigyn nodded at once and stretched up from the crouch she had been in, looking worried over to them. "Go in", she said, waving them away. "Jean and I will make sure to tidy everything up."

Maybe Tony would have complained about cutting the fun short for his sake, but the rest had him realizing that Louis was right - it was hard to stay on his feet with his knees quivering under his weight, and his right arm felt like lead. At least he didn't feel ill, just as weak as was probably to be expected after what he went through today, though he also felt a shiver start up at the base of his back - not quite enough to call it him being cold, but the promise of it.

Turning to the house to make his way there after he saw Louis nod he was caught entirely off-guard by the hand pulling him back at the shoulder. Losing his balance he braced himself for falling into the snow - just to be scooped up by strong arms until he was settled against Louis' chest like ... _like a fucking damsel in distress_ .

"Louis?", he asked, uncertainty coloring his voice as he begged for clarification what this meant.

"Hush, pet", was Louis' easy reply. "You are exhausted and I won't stand by and watch while you struggle your way up the driveway - and become real ill in the process, I may bet." A smile curved his lips when he looked down at Tony. "Stay still and enjoy that you don't have to walk by yourself."

Despite Louis' assurance Tony was stiff all the way up to the door - it was just so ...  _unfamiliar_ ? No, he was more than accustomed to the feeling of being carried. Maybe  _unexpected_ was a better word, because Tony would never have thought Louis to be the kind of person to carry someone around. Well, to carry  _him_ around.

Though he must have done that before, too, he realized suddenly. Tony had woken up in places different from where he had fallen asleep often enough in the last few days, and he had suspected his master to be the one to drag him ... but to be  _aware_ of it ...

When they reached the vestibule Louis released him, but only to take off his coat and shoes and for Tony to do the same, before he was ushered into the warm house.

And yes, it felt  _good_ to be indoors again. The warmth made his ears prickle and his toes curl, and he reveled in the feeling while Louis requested a pot of tea to be brought up into his office from Mary before he beckoned for Tony to follow him upstairs.

"Do you want to join me in the office, or would you rather go to bed?", he asked halfway up the staircase.

Tony didn't need to think -  _going to bed?_ _NOW?!_ No matter how nice the mattress was, and how much he liked the thick blanket he had - going to bed now, alone, just felt  _wrong_ . A digression from his usual routine in this house, and while he might rage internally against it sometimes he was also aware how much he depended on it, how much security it gave him.

"The office", he said, making sure not to look at the other man. Why was he feeling embarrassed by this?

"Okay", Louis returned only, betraying no emotion beyond being worried while he ushered Tony into his office, then spread out Tony's blanket on the floor next to his table.

Nor did he make a comment while Tony crossed the room and lay down on the blanket, being out like a light within seconds.

  
  


*

  
  


He woke again several hours later, his limbs aching pleasantly from the work he had done. Stifling a groan when he stretched he sat up, the light blanket that had been draped over him pooling in his lap, and looked around.

Louis wasn't working at the desk as he had expected. Instead he had moved his chair so he was now reading by the window, using the light of the fading afternoon sun. It seemed Tony had been out for a good few hours if the sun had wandered this far, and he found himself internally cursing his lack of strength as he moved into a more comfortable position, stretching out all the little pains and cracks from laying on a much too hard floor and relishing that he was allowed to do so.

"You slept well, my little pet?" Louis smooth voice sounded very amused, and when Tony looked over he saw that the man was smiling at him.

Smiling, half shadowed, half illuminated by the red sun, he was looking other-worldly - like a fairy escaped from legend ... no, not a fairy - Louis had nothing ethereal about him. He was strong, and the sun brought out the usually almost invisible hard lines in his face even more, sketching a picture of a God of Old - strength, mercy, amusement, death.

"Yes", he answered belatedly. Realizing that this image did things to his body he didn't want it to do.

The lips curved even more and Louis moved, vanishing the impression of being a god and becoming a man once again. Even more so when a hungry gleam appeared in his eyes and he closed the book he had been reading in with an audible sound. "Good. There are still some cookies with my name on them waiting to be eaten, and after all the work today I suspect you can eat as well?"

Tony hadn't realized it, but now that Louis had pointed it out he found that yes, his stomach was growling. And the thought of the delicious cookies ... "Yes", he answered again, eagerly pushing himself up.

Chuckling Louis stood as well. "Good."

The kitchen was empty when they turned up, but Louis was quick in preparing them both a cup of milk - "Finish your infernal brewing device and you can make yourself a pot of liquid tar." - while Tony filled a plate with cookies from the bowls Jean had tried to hide.

When Mary turned up a quarter of an hour later they had almost finished the cookies, and even Tony had his cup empty (he might not care for the taste but he had to admit - the mixture of cinnamon, honey and chili Louis had added made it go great with the cookies).

"You couldn't have waited for dinner?", Mary sighed, before she snitched a cookie herself.

Louis only raised an eyebrow at her. "I spent a lot of my strength today, and so did Anthony. I think we earned a fourth meal - not to mention that I know for sure that Sigyn and Jean had cookies earlier, too."

At her questioning raised eyebrows he turned a meaningful look over to the half-open dishwasher where only three cups rested on the top rack. "And you as well, I would think."

Mary laughed. "You're good, Louis Holmes. Now eat your cookies - Jean will need the place to make dinner."

"Of course", Louis nodded. Then he turned his head to Tony. "I think it is too late for you to go down into the garage - dinner will be served in half an hour. Would you like to come watch TV with me, or would you rather help Jean with his preparations?"

A choice. An actual choice about what he wanted to do.

_And Tony knew for sure that his decision would be respected._

Swallowing the lump in his throat he looked down at his hand, holding the rest of his chocolate-coated star. "I ... I would like to watch TV with you", he said.

And he did. Not because of some movie he had probably seen already or wasn't interested in, but because he liked sitting next to Louis, and having his limbs rest to get the rest of stiffness out of them.

Of course, he would have liked to go into the garage more, but the now full darkness outside and the kitchen clock both told him that Louis was right - it was too late to get anything done, and when Louis really let him go over tomorrow, again ...

"There's this snow queen movie on in a few minutes", Mary said. "I wanted to tell you anyway - I thought you might like it."

Louis blinked uncertainly, while Tony asked, sure she was making a mistake (Louis being a frost alien and all): " _Andersen's_ Snow Queen?"

"What? No!", Mary repeated hastily. "I meant the Disney movie - how is it called again? I can't recall ..."

"Frozen." Well, okay, yes - that sounded more like fun. And  _much_ more like something Louis might enjoy.

"You know it?", the man now asked, looking over to him.

He felt himself grin - the first time he had seen it was with Thor (who halfway during it told Elsa that of course she was loved - the other cinema goers hadn’t been pleased with that, though he had gotten a bit of applause, too - and afterwards had to be kept from flying away to tell Loki that he only needed to let the warmth of love in his heart) and Clint (who had been trying to liken Loki to Sven, but thankfully out of Thor's hearing), and it had been hilarious. Not to mention that one time when he had - during one of the more suspense-packed debriefs by a very tense Fury - had Jarvis play  _Let it go_ . 

Steve had been trying to scold him for it, but since he had been fighting his own grin (Fury's face had been  _absolutely fantastically amazing_ ) and the rest of the Avengers were still snickering he wasn't having much success.

"Yeah", he said now, the grin making his voice light. "It's ... it's funny. Much better than the original." Which had had Tony in a depressed mood for half a day after he had looked it up in his excitement over the Disney-movie.

Louis looked at him for a moment, before he nodded and had him following him to the room, where he fumbled with the remote for only a moment before he had found the right channel, then settled down next to where Tony was already sprawled out on his cushion, his back leaned against the soft couch.

"Disney", he said, while they watched the rest of the movie before theirs, something about a Santa bringing a child home when Tony understood that right.

"Yes", Tony answered, leaning into the hand that was slowly stroking along his temples. "They made this amazing. It's - well, the original is pretty depressing, but this one is cool. You should have seen ..."

"Yes?", Louis prompted when Tony didn't continue.

"Well ..." Tony looked up, wary still of Louis' reaction. "I've seen it with the others. It was ... it's about a girl that has powers which she fears, and she doesn't train them, and because of that bad things happen. And she has this sister who loves her anyway, even when the truth comes out, and when the first girl runs away the younger sister follows her. There's also this guy with his reindeer who tries to help her, and, well, he's hilarious."

Louis seemed to be interested, and not in a bad way, so Tony continued: "So, when we watched it all together, we've been talking about who he thought resembled who, and Thor kept telling us his brother is a lot like -" The sharp intake of breath, and the sudden twitch of the hand stroking him reminded him of Sigyn's warning, and he stopped himself, feeling how the blood left his face and his eyes grew big with fear.

For a few moments the only sounds in the room was of the girl telling Santa she was very grateful for him bringing her a real Christmas this year, and the loud thud of his racing heart in Tony's ears, his fast shallow intakes of breath, while he looked at the face over him that had become stormy in a way he had never seen before - anger, betrayal, fury coloring every line of it.

Closing his flashing eyes and taking a deep breath Louis cooled himself down a bit, but there was still anger there in his eyes when he looked at Tony again. "Yes? Please, continue", he said, his voice harsh and his tone anything but pleasant.

Tony was afraid. Maybe more afraid than he had ever been in this house. Sigyn had been fully right - Loki was, somehow, the sore point of his master, and he had managed to hit it full-on.

And now he had to continue, not knowing whether it would be better to make fun of Loki and tell Louis about Clint's suggestion, or if he should stay with Thor's side of the story.

In the end he decided to continue where he had started - when Louis knew the princes as good as he seemed to do, he would know what Thor's reaction had been after the movie anyway.

"Thor", he said, his lips almost numb from fear, and he deliberately looked at the CD-rack behind Louis instead of at is face. "He kept telling us that Loki was like Elsa - that he was misunderstood and ran away when he got faced with a truth about himself he couldn't take, only that he had no-one to follow after him because Thor thought him dead." Still not looking at Louis he concluded, his eyes now in his lap: "Thor wanted to go to him - run after him like he always does, assuring him that he loves him."

The silence after his words was almost deafening, even though now a commercial had come up, telling the world about a new shampoo that guaranteed no dandruff anymore.

"And you find that hilarious", Loki said, his voice blank of emotion.

Tony found he still couldn't look into his eyes. "Not as such, no", he admitted. "I mean, if Loki really had a life like that - and mind you, I don't know anything beyond what Thor is telling me - what with no-one liking him and no-one talking to him, and then being run over with the truth of being your own worst nightmare - well, I can understand that he went nuts. Doesn't mean I like the guy" Though he did, just a bit, because he had more style, and more honor than any other super villain they were facing, and he had become outright tame in the last year (caricaturing Avengers pictures? That one was fantastic!) "or that I'm forgiving him for what he did to earth, but ... well, I can understand him a bit." Taking a deep breath he looked up into Louis' face, still absolutely unreadable. "What is hilarious is Thor trying to run after his brother, trying to tell him again that he loves him, because when I can't find it hilarious then I would have to find it sad, and ... the big guy's not one to want you to be sad for him. Least of all about Loki."

Again silence.

On the screen the men began to hack into ice when  _Frozen_ came up before Louis answered.

"Loki loves him, too. More than Thor will ever know."

The quiet admission had Tony blinking uncertainly. How was he supposed to take this ...?

"But you are completely right - Thor's attempts to set things right between them are hilarious. Mostly because he has no idea how to go about it, or what he did wrong." A small laugh, bitter, and yet also amused, like a truth that had been told too often to not become a joke.

The sudden change threw Tony. How was he suppose to react to this?

Obviously not at all as the hand in his hair, determinedly turning him back to the screen and stroking him again, suggested.

"So, you love the movie?", Louis asked.

Tony hesitated a moment, before saying, as if the whole exchange before hadn't happened: "Yes." Then, tugging absentmindedly at his collar as he often did nowadays when he was distressed, he became aware of something: "I'm still wearing clothes."

Well, it wasn't the best moment to bring this up, was it? With all this tension still hanging around?

But then Tony still had to install his brain-mouth-filter.

Louis didn't seem to mind. "Would you like to strip yourself of them?", he asked.

Tony didn't even have to think about it. "No!" Blushing about his intense reaction he looked down into his lap - his  _trouser-covered_ lap.

"Then I see no reason for you to bring it up. Now be silent - I do intend to find out if this movie is actually as good as both you and Mary promised me."

And that was it.

Tony couldn't believe it at first, but when they relaxed into the story, both of them becoming ever more immersed into it, he slowly understood that Louis might really ignore the whole incident.

And when Jean turned up moments later, complaining that they hadn't recorded the movie and waited to watch it with him (not that much had happened so far, Elsa hadn’t even revealed her powers) and Louis promised they would get the DVD if that was the only hope he had for his household to be still again, he just settled into his usual role of the little pet that got fed by his master, enjoying the attention and the roasted potatoes with sausages and mushrooms equally.

  
  


  
  


 

 

 


	51. Memories of a young boy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again many thanks to [evilwitch66](http://archiveofourown.org/users/evilwitch66/pseuds/evilwitch66//) for beta-reading

On Asgard there are five seasons. Well, on Asgard  _Space Station_ there are five seasons - the  _planet_ Asgard has a lot more seasons depending on which half of the planet you are on, and on which continent, but most Aesir left the planet some thousand years ago when the environment threatened to collapse and every scientist told them they had to leave the planet alone for a while (and with almost every woman on Asgard being some sort of scientist this meant the scientists had a  _lot_ of power) so they settled on the space station that had once been built to arrange communications with the rest of the nine realms (it being set where a big natural path through the universe - the  _Yggdrasil_ \- went by and so making forging new paths via Bifrøst easier). It must have been tight, at first, what with Aesir being lone creatures when they didn't band for war, but they added to the station and built more to it until it was big enough to allow hunts, and their culture changed over the years (and, come to think of it, it explained rather well why they went out for wars and fights and 'peacekeeping' in the galaxy so often).

But back to the climate of the space station.

There are five seasons - a short warm season when everything awakens, a long hot season when everyone but an Aesir and a giant from Muspelheim will hide in the shadows and still beg for ice, a rain season that is rather short, another long warm season and then a short but most vicious winter. It's not natural, from what Loki knows, but then what is natural on Asgard ( _Space Station_ , but most refer to it as only  _Asgard_ now, and to  _Asgard_ _Planet_ when they mean the cradle of the Aesir)? It's what both the plants and animals as well as the Aesir have adapted to, and it works, so who cares (aside from the weather scientists, and the ones responsible for the ocean (and for making the falling-off water return to Asgard) who get into an angry clash whenever the former ones manage to get the temperatures wrong and the ocean freezes partly).

Anyway, all this showed just how warm or even  _hot_ Asgard is (and Loki is  _grateful_ for being able to shapeshift; he doesn't want to think about how the hot sun - hot despite the space station being even further away from it than the planet, but the thicker atmosphere of the planet makes it more comfortable there - would make him feel in his Jotunn shape). 

This being said,  _every Aesir loved the winter_ . It was a time when their bodies weren't wired for fighting (because an Aesir fights the better the hotter it is, not the least because his enemies are growing weaker at the same rate) and there were feasts almost every other night in the castle and the city.

And there was  _snow_ .

As far as Loki was concerned it didn't make sense, but most Aesir  _loved_ snow. They loved to watch it fall - one of the few quiet things Aesir did and loved - and to play in it. Aesir kids were often found building snow castles, and adults weren't far behind.

Being a kid barely able to write his own name he had pointed out to his teacher that Jotunns were supposed to love snow, not Aesir, but the woman had only looked at him with her kind eyes (she liked him a lot, same as Baldur, but she had had a very sharp tongue with Thor or the crown prince wouldn't have ever learned to write and read) and said he would understand it one day, too.

Naturally, he never did.

But even though he preferred to stay in the library or with the horses or the scientists, his brothers and sister, and later Thor and his friends (or even Amora, despite being only Half-Aesir) had pulled him from his den and made him play in the snow.

His memories of childhood winters were of Thor and him (and sometimes Idun) throwing snow balls against Baldur. Of them building ice castles and igloos and even trying their hands on replicas of Odin and Frigga (they always,  _always_ managed to get it wrong, but the eye patch they snitched of Odin and the stick-crowns they fabricated made it easy to identify who they wanted to render in snow). He remembered storming castles of other kids with his brothers at his side, and defending their own against them. Sitting with an out-of-his-mind-bored Thor within a circle of girls and talking about snow crystals. Making Idun her very own play-castle. Amora grinning back to him while he was chasing her over the snow.

Hunting on foot, or horse, with his brothers in the forests of Asgard planet. Sneaking with Fandral through the snowed hallway of the palace, trying to trick Thor or trying to find a way into the tailor’s workplace to get golden buttons for their clothing (well, mostly for  _Fandral's_ clothing). Ice-skating with a grimly smiling Hogun. Feasts with Volstagg, betting him about who of them could eat more. Sharing a horse with Sif, laughing about a shared joke and almost falling of the horse because of that. Running through the city, trying to keep his friends from catching him or just to feel the way his lungs burned with the sting of the cold air.

No, Loki may not like snow the way Aesir do. But he had always loved what came with it.

Running around in his own lawn, sharing a castle made by Jotunn magic with a human that may or may not be his enemy, throwing snow balls at his friend and body guard and voice of reason, and another human that he considered something of a friend as well, felt like it should be different.

It was not.

In fact, it was so much the  _same_ that he had to catch himself from treating Anthony like Thor, from calling him  _idiot_ when he had to rescue him and from glaring at him whenever he was being rescued (well, twice). 

And he could feel the magic inside him swirl like it did with Thor. It shouldn't do that - not for a human he had known barely a few years, only a handful of days intimately - but it did. And the more it happened the less did Loki question it.

The feeling was so strong that he forgot the man was  _not_ Thor, was human and fragile and still recovering after five months of an ordeal Loki only wished on very few of his enemies. And on top of that Loki had made him shovel snow for half of the afternoon!

Calling a stop was not a conscious decision, but when he touched the other man's forehead and found it hot and sweaty while the cheeks were pale and his knees quivered ... well, there was no question as to what he had to do, wasn't there?

Barely spending half a thought on what he said to Sigyn and Jean he picked Anthony up and carried him up to the house.

Of course the man complained -  _sweet Chaos_ ,  _Loki_ would have complained had he been carried this way! Not in words, mind you, as Loki would have done, but with his body who did not relax even though Loki held him in the softest way possible, cradled against his chest as he had once done with his kids. 

Well, he put him down again in the end - there was no reason to scare Anthony more than absolutely necessary even though Loki felt a strange kind of happiness filling him from having his pet so near. Even though he could think of nothing better than burying his nose in the other's neck and inhale the scent there, strengthened from sweat and running and happiness.

Still, he needed to strip his feet from the shoes (going in with snow on the shoes? Mary would make him  _pay_ for that) and Anthony did likewise while Loki thought whether he should have him join him in the study as he preferred himself, or lie down on his bed as his mind told him would be better. 

He hadn't made his mind up yet when Mary turned up and he asked her to bring him a pot of tea up, instead opted for having Anthony choose himself.

"The office". the man immediately replied, and, well, he  _was_ surprised. But then ... Anthony had  _always_ joined him in the afternoons, hadn't he? He had always been up with him in his study, from the first day on, and even though it hadn't been such a large amount of time it was something of a routine, and in a situation as insecure as Anthony was in such a certainty must be worth everything.

In the end he accepted the decision silently, prepared his makeshift bed and then watched him lay down on it, exhaustion letting him fall asleep within seconds.

Originally he had planned to get the rest of the work done this afternoon, but now, seeing his pet lie there vulnerable and sweet and exhausted ... it was an image that woke his paternal instincts, made him remember the vow he had made earlier and go over to him, kneeling down beside him to check over his body.

A small spell he had often used to keep his children from waking when they needed to be moved in their sleep made sure he could work without scaring Anthony further as he removed his socks and checked on his feet.

The skin was sore as he had anticipated, the appendages used to Anthony going barefoot, not being pressed into shoes however comfortable they might be. Carefully calling on the memories of healing spells he hadn't used for so long - his kids had outgrown this phase long ago, and neither Thor nor his friends were fond of being healed, while most everyone else Loki cared about could take care of themselves - he made sure that the skin lost its soreness. In an afterthought he used another spell to keep his muscles from being stiff, smiling at the way Anthony relaxed when the magic took hold, how he sighed and snuggled deeper in his quilt.

Well, Loki being unused to this meant his efforts were ridiculous compared to what he was used to be able to do, but, well, at least Anthony wouldn't suspect his meddling this way.

Shaking his head that he would take comfort in this thought he conjured another blanket to drape it over Anthony - he shouldn't get cold between the clothes he still wore and the temperature set to almost Aesir standard, but then one might cool out in one's sleep.

He was still plucking it in place when there was a knock from the door, then it opened and Jean came in. "Just wanted to tell you that we're finished", he said almost before he was really in. A short pause then while he took in the picture they must present - Anthony lying on the floor soundly asleep, Loki kneeling protectively next to him and looking up to the man in the door, before he closed the door softly behind him and came over, crouching down next to them, and softly spoke the real reason he was here: "Thanks, boss. For the help." A smile lingered on his lips, grew even wider when he looked Anthony over, and his fingers twitched as if he wanted to touch him like Loki still did with his fingers in his pet’s hair but wasn’t entirely sure he was allowed to.

Loki smiled; he did so love when those he cared about went on this good. "Of course”, he said softly. "I couldn't leave you to this hard work all by your fragile self, now could I?"

The look he became returned told him what Jean thought about his words, and also that he understood their true meaning.

Not that it prevented him from faking outrage. "When that's all ...?" He pushed himself up with his hands on his knees and turned back to the door.

"Stop."

Raising an eyebrow Jean looked back. "Yes?"

It took Loki a moment to fight down the urge to take back the spontaneous outburst, the  _idea_ that had made him call his friend back. In the end he swallowed and stroked a hand over Anthony's hair, feeling his resolve harden when the man smiled in his sleep and curled in his hand. "When you're going shopping tomorrow ... Anthony will need clothes. Underwear and socks, at least." The rest he wanted to choose himself, even if only because he wanted to make sure his pet's clothes would be appropriate.

When there was one thing that Loki valued in Jean above even his cooking skills then it was his ability to sense when to ask a question would just hurt the other person. "Underwear. You mean boxers, or slips?"

Nodding he said thoughtfully: "I'll let that for you to choose - I do not know earth's customs that much." A short pause, before he decided to add: "I do not wish for him to feel like a whore."

The abrupt motion Jean made, small as it was, caught his eye. "Yes?"

Jean bit his lips for a moment before admitting: "We were ... we were wondering about that." Probably seeing the anger that Loki felt rising in him he made a hasty waving motion with his hands as if to cut through his anger. "No, no, we didn't think you'd make him a  _whore_ . Hell, Lo, what do you think I am? Or Mary - do you really think she'd let you turn him into a prostitute? One of our  _heroes_ ? Loki, we love you, we  _really_ do, but we love  _them_ , too." Taking a deep breath he continued more calmly: "We were wondering because ... you said you wanted to keep him so he'd get better. But then you kept him naked, and on his knees ... I mean, I'm not dumb - well, I have no idea about psychology, but I'm not  _dumb_ dumb - and I see that he likes it. Sometimes. Being on his knees, I mean. But ... he never liked being naked. I mean, he wasn't thinking about it most of the time, and he ... tolerated it, but ..."

While Jean's voice trailed off, probably due to Loki's lack of response, Loki himself couldn't stop himself from berating himself for not asking Mary and Jean. Of  _course_ the humans in his household would have known what was going on. Had he asked them they would have told him. But the thought had simply never occurred to him.

Which made him think ... "Is there anything else you think I should know? Concerning Anthony?"

Jean thought this over for barely a moment. "Don't - don't  _make_ him kneel. When he doesn't want it, I mean. And working with Sigyn - don't make him stop. I mean, I don't know  _him_ , but he's an engineer - I guess that doing that makes him as happy as cooking makes me." Pausing to look at the man who was now curled fully into Loki's lap, his cheek resting warm against his thighs - and Loki was really really glad he had cast that sleeping charm; otherwise he would now worry that the man might wake in the middle of this slightly hard to explain conversation, or to the name Jean had called him by - Jean let a breath out loudly. " _Tell_ him, I would think. As much as possible - what you want with him, at least. It will help him accept you, I guess."

Loki nodded, grateful for the advise but not too sure whether or how to implement it. "I will think about it. You will remember his underwear?"

"Red boxers with little golden crowns on them, check." Grinning at Loki's confused stare he saluted mockingly and left.

Loki was staring after him a long moment. "He's almost as crazy as you", he told the man in his lap, and Anthony mumbled something in his sleep that might have been "the mouse is too fast, Bruce", but he really wasn't sure.

Or wanted to know.

  
  


?Â¿

  
  


Watching Anthony sleep was calming like a meditation, but the light on his muted cell phone told him he had at least three missed calls, and that meant there was work he needed to do. Shaking his head a bit he went up and looked at the texts as well as the mail he had gotten, trying to keep his thoughts on them while he worked, but still ... they strayed to the man next to him as well as did his eyes, and in the end, when he simply couldn't get anything done anymore, he shoved everything away and sat on the window sill, reading by the light from outside - at least the snow made sure that there was plenty of light out there, and the clouds had disappeared, too.

Only the fading sun told him about the passing of the time, and so he was still mostly caught up within the story when Anthony began to move.

Looking up he was met with the sight of a mob of sleep-hair over a content face, the man stretching his limbs. An adoring smile threatened to curl his lips and he asked fondly: "You slept well, my little pet?"

His words made Anthony turn to him as he had expected. What he hadn't anticipated was the way he looked at him. From a confused but pleased face he began to look ...  _awed_ . As if he saw, even for just a moment, something in Loki that even the man himself never could see.

It made Loki feel ...  _like a god._

"Yes", he answered eventually, his voice having a breathless quality to it that awed Loki in turn, made him want to bask in this beginning of worship, and the power such a devotion might give him. Instead he opted to turn his thought on another hunger - incidentally one that was related to his magic as well.

Shutting his book he grinned and said: "Good. There are still some cookies with my name on them waiting to be eaten, and after all the work today I suspect you can eat as well?"

Anthony grinned in response and pushed himself up. "Yes", he said eagerly, earning a chuckling that Loki couldn't suppress.

"Good." He  _really_ wanted the cookies now.

Once they arrived in the kitchen he had Anthony prepare a plate with cookies - Jean was good at hiding the cookies, but Loki was even better at  _finding_ them, not the least because they had raided the bowls themselves only an hour before and there were still sweet smelling fingerprints at the cupboard doors - while he warmed milk and seasoned it with a few spices and honey; tea was good, but cookies went much better with milk or cocoa.

After that they sat at the table - Loki didn't bother trying to make Anthony go down on his knees, not after what Jean had advised him only a short while ago, and it seemed Anthony had forgotten about kneeling at the table as well - and duck into the cookies as if they hadn't eaten in days.

They were almost finished when Mary turned up and chided them because they hadn't waited for dinner - as if Loki wasn't more than capable of still eating a good portion, or Jean had even started with his preparations.

He still indulged her and answered dryly: "I spent a lot of my strength today, and so did Anthony. I think we earned a fourth meal - not to mention that I know for sure that Sigyn and Jean had cookies earlier, too." Throwing a meaningful look over to the dishwasher he pointed out his most obvious clue about their doing.

Mary wasn't even embarrassed about being called out at being a hypocrite. "You're good, Louis Holmes", she praised good naturedly. "Now eat your cookies - Jean will need the place for the dinner preparations."

"Of course", Loki nodded. Then he turned his head to Anthony, trying to put his concerns in words that wouldn't leave the man feeling overlooked. "I think it is too late for you to go down into the garage - dinner will be ready in half an hour. Would you like to come watch TV with me, or would you rather help Jean with his preparations?"

Something in the other's face told him that he had found the right words.

Still, the man looked down before answering, but at least it felt honest to Loki when he announced that he wanted to watch TV with him.

Maybe he was unsure about wanting to spent time with Loki?

"There's this snow queen movie on in a few minutes", Mary said suddenly. "I wanted to tell you anyway - I thought you might like it."

Not knowing the movie Loki was unsure whether he wanted to watch it - he hadn't thought that far ahead, had just thought it might be nice to let the evening draw to an end with a good film.

Anthony, on the other hand, didn't seem to have such concerns. " _Anderson's_ Snow Queen?", he asked, sounding disbelievingly.

"What? No!", was Mary's hasty reply and it just made Loki want to know more about this Anderson and his Snow Queen that the pure mention of it would make her this flustered and throw concerned looks in his direction. "I meant the Disney movie - how is it called again? I can't recall ..."

"Frozen." That sounded ... more promising. Almost fond.

"You know it?", Loki asked, looking over to his Anthony.

A grin grazed that face, one without any hesitation. "Yeah", he said in a very light voice. "It's ... it's funny. Much better than the original."

Which was probably what this Anderson had written then.

Now really curious he nodded and motioned for the other to follow him into the living room, leaving Mary behind to do whatever was keeping her. It only took him a moment to find the channel the movie would be coming on - and he really wondered how mortals ever kept track of this many channels without magic; he was barely able to do so with - and when he turned he found that Anthony had already taken a cushion for himself and settled comfortably on the carpet next to Loki's usual spot.

The picture made him hesitate for a moment; was Jean right? Had he gone too far and Anthony was much more of a pet than he had ever wanted to turn him into?

Then the man looked up and smiled, and his concerns washed away with the easy grin, the obvious contentment of the man.

"Disney", he prompted, settling down beside Anthony and relishing the way the other immediately leaned against his legs.

"Yes", Anthony answered and made a soft purring noise when Loki began to stroke his hair. "They made this amazing", he said eagerly, the words almost tumbling over themselves. "It's - well, the original is pretty depressing, but this one is cool. You should have seen ..."

"Yes?", Loki prompted when Anthony didn't continue.

"Well ..." Anthony looked up, his face showing his hesitation. "I've seen it with the others. It was ... it's about a girl that has powers which she fears, and she doesn't train them, and because of that bad things happen. And she has this sister who loves her anyway, even when the truth comes out, and when the first girl runs away the younger sister follows her. There's also this guy with his reindeer who tries to help her, and, well, he's hilarious."

That ... hit a bit too close to home, but Loki tried to keep looking interested. Not everything was about him and Thor, after all.

Anthony, obviously oblivious, continued: "So, when we watched it all together, we've been talking about who we thought resembled who, and Thor kept telling us his brother is a lot like -"

The mention of his brother was the last Loki heard before this mixture of pain-betrayal-love-devotion that accompanied every thought of Thor kicked him in the stomach like the fist of Hogun on a good day, washed-out his sight and made him want to throttle the man who had mentioned him.

It took him a good long moment to calm down again, to get his breath back under control and realize that Anthony had stopped talking.

Likely for the best - he wasn't sure what he would have done otherwise.

Still, sometimes Loki was a masochist, and it seemed today was such a day.

Cooling his anger further by taking a deep breath he said: "Yes? Please, continue", his voice gruff even to his own ears.

At least Anthony was too smart to refuse his half-order.

"Thor", he said, his eyes fixed on a point somewhere to Loki's right, his voice trembling in something too close to fear for Loki’s comfort. "He kept telling us that Loki was like Elsa - that he was misunderstood and ran away when he got faced with a truth about himself he couldn't take, only that he had no-one to follow after him because Thor thought him dead. Thor wanted to go to him - run after him like he always does, assuring him that he loves him."

Loki couldn't even begin to make sense of the emotions rolling through him - pain over Thor's betrayal. Mistrust - why would Thor of all people be different? Actually get what was going on with his brother, or at least trying to?

But there was also hope that maybe, maybe, there was still a part of the boy he had once sworn eternal brotherhood to, that his brother was now really growing into the man he had once glimpsed in him and thought lost all those hundreds of years Thor had taken him into battles that could have been avoided with a bit of diplomacy, and belittled every effort that wasn't done by force or weapon.

But this wasn't about that.

"And you find that hilarious", Loki said, his voice betraying nothing of the turmoil within him.

"Not as such, no", Anthony said, his eyes still trained on his lap. "I mean, if Loki really had a life like that - and mind you, I don't know anything beyond what Thor is telling me -" which would be colored by Thor's opinion, just in another way as Anthony likely suspected. "what with no-one liking him and no-one talking to him, and then being run over with the truth of being your own worst nightmare - well, I can understand that he went nuts. Doesn't mean I like the guy" Loki certainly wasn't expecting it. "or that I'm forgiving him for what he did to earth, but ... well, I can understand him a bit." Suddenly he looked up, determined and somehow ... sad. "What is hilarious is Thor trying to run after his brother, trying to tell him again that he loves him, because when I can't find it hilarious then I would have to find it sad, and ... the big guy's not one to want you to be sad for him. Least of all about Loki."

Loki was ... for once he was at a loss for what to say. What to  _think_ . Because what Anthony's words boiled down to was that all those attempts of Thor to reconcile them - all those words and deeds and motions that Loki had thought partly dumbness, and partly something more akin to duty (to him, or in trying to entrap him to Asgard he was not sure) and maybe also lingering affection still - that they were  _true_ . That Thor -

_That Thor loved him_ . 

"Loki loves him, too. More than Thor will ever know it."

Only when the silence weighed heavy on them afterwards Loki became aware that he had said it out loud. That he had, for the first time, admitted to his feelings for Thor to someone other than his best friend (even though he had no doubt that everyone else in his family knew full well what he felt).

He really didn't feel up to pursuing this road further.

Forcing his voice to sound jovial he said: "But you are completely right - Thor's attempts to set things right between them are hilarious. Mostly because he has no idea about how to go about it, or what he did wrong." The laugh at the end wasn't planned, but ... how had Anthony put it? When he couldn't laugh about this truth, then he would have to cry.

_And when that boy, that brother of his was still somewhere buried deep in Thor, then he wouldn't want Loki to cry because of him._

He needed to get drunk. Or, barring that, a distraction.

Softly forcing Anthony's head back to the screen he began again to play with his hair, to stroke and pet him.

"So, you love the movie?"

When Anthony went along with it he felt like kissing the man. "Yes." And then he changed the topic: "I'm still wearing clothes!"

He sounded surprised, as if Loki hadn't made it clear enough that he wanted him in them.

And, well, maybe he hadn't.

"Would you like to strip yourself of them?", he asked, remembering what Jean had said about forcing Anthony to do anything.

The answer came fast and intense. "No!"

The blush that crept up upon his face warmed his skin under Loki's fingers even when he looked down to try and hide it.

"Then I see no reason for you to bring it up", he said matter-of-factually. "Now be silent - I do intend to find out if this movie is actually as good as both you and Mary promised me."

He really wanted - a movie that was so close to his and Thor's life? Beginning with such a catching tune as was now playing?

Of course he wanted.

And it was good, if sometimes a bit too close, making him almost-wince when Elza told her parents to not come closer because she didn't want to hurt them - hadn't that been the way with him, too, when he was younger and not so used to not have his anger overcome him with the ice of a Jotunn or the blaze of his brash magic? - or want to curl even deeper into Anthony's warm anchoring reassuring body when he saw the young queen accepting a crown she had been born and raised to bear, but was still awfully unsuited for.

Maybe it were these moments that made him forget about reality, but Jean trampling in and loudly complaining that they hadn't waited for him? Well, maybe he promised they would get the DVD just to shut him up.

Maybe he just wanted to watch it again, one time when he felt safer within his own skin.

  
  


  
  


  
  


  
  


  
  


 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think Loki feels betrayed by Thor - it's very obvious in the scene with Frigga, when Loki asks her about his brother and Odin. And lets not forget how Thor reacted when he first found Loki on earth - that's not really the way to go about a reunion with a loved brother you thought dead. So really, I'm more surprised that he still loves him.


	52. A day with Loki I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay, had something of a writers block and didn't like the first version of this chapter, so I had to wait until I actually could rewrite the parts that I didn't like.  
> Again, many thanks to [evilwitch66](http://archiveofourown.org/users/evilwitch66/pseuds/evilwitch66//) for betareading, though I changed it after she did it so there are probably still a lot of mistakes in there ...

Waking up the next morning Tony was faced with a possible disastrous dilemma.

The evening before he had stripped himself of his clothes - trousers, shirt, pullover and socks - when Louis had led him back to their room. He had even, trying to gain some further goodwill from the man, folded them as neatly as possible and laid them on one of the chairs near the window (the other being occupied as usual by Louis' own clothes), all the while ignoring that once he had stripped them off there was no guarantee that he would be allowed to wear them again

But now, lying still under his blanket, he feared what would happen now. Would Louis continue like he had done yesterday, and allow him clothes? Or was yesterday an exception and he would have to go naked in future again? Would he have to get used to never ever wear clothes again?

Somehow not knowing was even worse than being denied clothes at all, as much as the pure thought of being denied clothes made his heart race and cold sweat break out over his skin.

He had never thought - not really, at least - that he would be naked for the rest of his life. There had always been a part of him that just waited for a chance to escape, to get back to his normal life, but with Louis ... no, that wasn’t right. He had been giving up hope before he met Louis, a good while before, he just hadn’t had the strength to acknowledge it then. The only difference now was that under Louis’ care he had gotten strength back, and that allowed him to hope for more.

For clothes. For freedom. For happiness.

"Anthony?", the soft voice of his master cut into his thoughts. "I know that standing up in the morning is always a trial, but you may want to move, else you won't be ready when Jean serves breakfast."

Yeah, there was that. So no lying around in agony anymore, but facing the truth whether or not Louis was the kind of master Tony imagined him as. He would either wear clothes again, or face the fact that Louis just wanted to break him. Or maybe worse - saw him as a toy for whose emotions he didn’t care. Turning onto his stomach Tony pushed himself up, his eyes fixed on the man who held his life - quite literally - in his hands.

As always, he had obviously been awake for quite some time but left Tony to sleep. There was a book lying next to him on the emerald green duvet that Tony's fingers itched to touch - going by the charts it was about maths or physics, but written in letters that no human had ever encountered before. The man himself was sprawled relaxed against the headboard, and when he saw that Tony had stopped pretending to still be asleep he slipped out of bed. 

"Come, my Anthony", he said and paused next to him on his way to the bathroom.

Tony hastily scrambled to his feet, hissing as the cold air hit his exposed skin, and then let himself be led to the luxuriously arranged room.

Using the toilet and brushing his teeth went by without incident, even though he bumped into Louis during the latter several times. It wasn't until he was under the warm spray of the shower, the other stepping in to join him and adjusting the controls to get the water a bit warmer, that Louis began to speak again.

"Anthony? What has you this strained?" The words were asked directly into his ear, the other man standing behind him so he could better wash his back as he now spread cold shower gel over his skin. A shiver ran over Tony’s back at the contact, but the soothing motion of Louis’ warm hands had him settle again, calming down under the reassuring touch.

Still, Louis being in his back just meant that Tony couldn’t see his face, nor could he escape eventual attacks in the tiny space of the shower cabin should he take offense at the answer to his question.

Freezing again despite the gentle drag of the washing cloth over his skin Tony bit his lip. He wasn't  _ready_ for this conversation, this question. And yet he would have to speak soon anyway, seeing as they would be out of the shower within minutes.

Feeling light headed and yet still strangely hyper-aware of the points where Louis was touching him - hyper-aware of his being naked, too - and when he opened his mouth his words seemed to have a distant quality to them. "I ... will you ... Am I allowed to wear clothes today, again?"

He couldn't help but feel like his words were echoing in foreboding - bad or good he couldn't discern, but with how his life usual went,  _bad_ was more likely. A hard band formed around his chest, squeezing it shut until he felt as if there wasn’t enough oxygen anymore.

Having had panic attacks too often in his life he tried to calm down, to forcefully take slow deep breaths until he wasn’t hyperventilating anymore.

The hand on his back had stopped for a moment before it was now stroking over his soapy skin again, helping him settle and stop the tremors. Only once he was breathing normally again Louis answered. "Of course", he said, his voice carrying only slight surprise and sad affection. "Unless you would prefer to go without, though I guess that is not the case."

Tony silently shook his head, relief and disbelief going to his head like a heady wine, making him feel even more disconnected.

They were silent for a long while during which Louis continued to wash him carefully, the smell of cherry soap billowing up around them in the heavy mist of the shower while he went over his shoulders and arms, his back and hips and legs. Only when Louis had finished his back did he speak again, startling Tony from the relaxed state he had slowly sunken in.

"On Asgard, nakedness is not something seen as shame”, he said, his voice almost wistfully - did he miss his home? “Everyone is using the common baths together, and while going in armor is most warrior's preferred choice of state no-one would comment on any Ás going scarcely clad or even naked. I ... I have been on Midgard for quite some time now - I should have noticed the difference in our world views."

Tony barely dared to breathe - did Louis actually  _apologize_ to him? He had to be imagining things!

But no, Louis wasn't finished yet. "I was also aware of your discomfort, albeit not of the amount you felt, and I should have reacted earlier. For this, I apologize, and give you my sincere word that you won't have to go without clothing again as long as it is not your wish." An amused huff tickled Tony's neck. "Though I very sincerely hope that you won't demand to take your  _showers_ clothed."

The joke eased some of Tony's discomfort, but not all. Louis - his master, his  _owner_ \- had apologized for letting him go unclothed. Something that every other master before him had taken for granted. Had  _liked_ .

He hadn't really thought that Louis left him naked solely for his own benefit - though he had yet to explain why he did it - but he had never dreamed that he might not be aware of the discomfort it caused Tony. 

It was as if a light bulb went on in Tony's head -  _Louis was an alien._

Of course, he had known that before. Had seen him looking  _strange_ before with his blue skin and red eyes. Had seen him use ice and magic. But somehow it had never truly registered what that  _meant_ .

_Thor is not like that._ But Louis was not Thor, and Tony had never had reason to question his friend's unusual world views.

Like running naked into the common room with Mjölnir in his hand when a call to assemble met him while he showered.

Like having to be shown and explained changing rooms in a shop.

Like asking why Tony had made the bath on the common floor such a small thing.

Because he didn't care about nakedness, obviously. It was almost humiliating how long Tony had needed to figure this one out.

Louis, on the other side, was much less easily discernible as different - as he had said, he had been on earth obviously long enough to figure most things out for himself.

And no-one had thought he might not know what he was doing to Tony. It was suddenly so obvious to Tony - the way Jean and Mary and Dr. Lee had reacted. They had thought Louis  _knew_ what he was doing.

_And Sigyn doesn't know better herself._

"It's okay", he said when the silence in the shower reminded him that he was supposed to answer. "I ..."  _forgive you? I’m alright?_ "It's okay."

Maybe Louis heard his reluctance - who was he kidding,  _of course_ he heard it - for he was very careful while showering further, his hands barely straying where humanity's taboos didn't allow them, his hands on Tony’s genitals fast and clinical.

And after that - after rinsing him, and washing himself, and drying both of them - he took Tony out into the bedroom and gave him a new shirt to go with his trousers from yesterday (which, come to think of it, lacked the spots melted snow had left on them) as well as a fresh pair of socks.

"Jean will get you some underwear today, and I'll see to the rest of your wardrobe tomorrow", Louis explained, his fingers running through Tony's hair where he stood with the clothes pressed to his chest, and he couldn't help but lean into the feeling.

"Thank you", he whispered.

_Clothes all for himself._ The thought shouldn't bring tears to his eyes but it did nonetheless.

  
  


?Â¿

  
  


Breakfast was almost boring compared to what came before, and after Jean had departed with a smiling Sigyn and Mary in tow Louis took him up to his study.

It was like always, but at the same time it was not.

_They were alone for the very first time._

No Sigyn here, or Jean, or even Mary. No-one to run to should he need help from Louis (provided that they  _would_ help him).

_There was not even a shred of fear in him._ Louis was sitting at his desk, muttering angrily in a language Tony didn't know, and sitting on his blanket, the papers from a few weeks ago in his lap, felt like home. He even found himself smiling slightly when the words turned into a different language and he listened for a few moments as Louis cursed some business partner of him in French for being dumb dragon shit with the bigger part of his brain located in his loins.

Maybe he chuckled about that, because Louis looked up suddenly and over to him, a dumbstruck expression on his face before it smoothed over into a much more pleased one.

"Well, he certainly isn't the epitome of genius", he said dryly and Tony found himself returning the amused grin.

Then Louis shook his head and looked at the clock. "Are you hungry, little one?", he asked. "It seems with Jean gone we will have to take care of your midday meal ourselves."

Blinking Tony tried to figure out whether he wanted to eat now and found that yes, there was a hollowness in his stomach though he wouldn't call it  _hunger_ for at least half an hour more. "Not yet", he offered at last.

Louis nodded. "In an hour, then? Well, that's good, because it will take me a bit to get familiar with the kitchen again. Jean's always rearranging everything within it." The last said with a half exasperated, half amused tone.

Tilting his head while Louis shut his computer down and shuffled the papers on two piles Tony asked mindlessly: "You don't eat?"

He froze instinctively, but his heart beat returned to normal after only one missing beat as if it had forgotten what this man could do to him.  _As if it trusted him ..._

And it seemed this trust wasn't wrong. Instead of becoming angry with Tony for snooping around Louis just chuckled and said: "Jean's been talking, yes? He is right - most Aesir do not eat lunch. Actually, the only reason Sigyn and I do is because the amount of food we would otherwise eat for dinner is more than Jean likes to prepare, not to mention that trying to have him make a night-meal wouldn't end well. When he is out we often just skip the meal." Smiling softly down to Tony he nodded over to the door. "Shall we?"

Finding his breathing had returned to normal Tony nodded and followed him down into the kitchen.

"What would you like?", Louis asked once he sat foot into the room and turned to him.

Suddenly feeling like a deer caught in headlights Tony froze in the doorframe. What did he mean  _What would you like?_ He couldn't mean what Tony thought he meant, could he ...?

Maybe sensing his surprise and slowly building desperation Louis' encouraging smile turned very gentle and he came over to him, taking his chin in his hand and slowly stroking his jaw with a thumb. "I admit, I am not Jean, but I think I can make some decent dishes. Since most of them are either in need of ingredients not available on earth or need too much time to fill your stomach when it needs to be filled: how would you like to eat some of your more common home-made dishes? Scrambled eggs? Or maybe some sweet pancakes?"

Looking up at the soft expression in his master's face Tony dared to ask: "Can you ... can you do noodles?"

A surprised but pleased smile turned the corners of Louis' lips up. "Of course", he said, his eyes lighting up. "I've been living in Italy once, I make the best spaghetti you've ever eaten." Then a teasing note turned his expression very mischievous and he said sternly: "But I expect you to help me."

Tony laughed, surprising even himself. "Cutting vegetables?", he asked, and the man grinned, getting the joke easily.

"It seems to be your favorite pastime", he teased, causing Tony to laugh anew.

When Louis turned away to get the tomatoes and noodles and whatever else ingredients he needed out of the cupboard Tony found he actually missed his closeness - missed his body warmth that had been so close to him only moments ago, and the stranger but nonetheless almost even  _better_ warmth of his undivided attention.

Shaking his head against these sort of thoughts he pulled a cutting board and a knife out of the cupboard, getting ready to cut the onions and tomatoes Louis had deposited on the table.

Everything to not think about the strange fascination this man seemed to cause in him.


	53. A day with Loki II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for not replying to your comments today, but it's late in the evening here and I'm half asleep right now. I just wanted to thank you - every single one of you who's ever left a comment on this little baby of mine (that became quite a big baby ^^ ) - for doing so. I don't have that good a record for finishing stories, but every time I'm down and even the slightest thought of abandoning this story flitters through my mind I'm thinking of you and how I just don't want to disappoint you.
> 
> On another point - I'm still trying to get the Christmas chapter up this Christmas or at least around that date. Though I'll admit, I've been trying that last year, too (and then the last 25 or so chapters happened ...), and I just finished a 2500 words fighting scene (aka chapter 58), but ... I'm determined.
> 
> I think I should really go to sleep now. Enjoy the chapter.
> 
> EDIT: Forgot to mention: Again, many thanks to evilwitch66 for beta-reading this chapter.

It was ... _bizarre_ , in a way. Having Anthony sitting here at the desk, cutting tomatoes and onions (though he cursed a bit about their sting) and an orange pepper while Loki busied himself cooking noodles and tomato sauce.

Having him sitting here and _trusting_ him.

Loki hadn't been aware how tense being naked had Anthony till it just vanished with his promise in the shower. The feeling of those taught muscles under his hands relaxing slowly, giving in to Loki's care ... it made Loki's anger flare up again, though this time it was directed not only at those idiots that just didn’t know that their time was up who had dared to keep his Anthony captive, but Loki himself as well. To be exact - the only reason he was mad at them _at all_ was his suspicion that Anthony wouldn't have minded being naked as much hadn't he been through what he had been through with them.

It was Anthony's low query what he should do now that cut through the red haze of the fury and brought him back into the real world.

Shaking his head in an attempt to get the anger out of his mind he looked over to the table where everything was cut neatly into squares and placed on little plates.

"Do you want sausages in the sauce?", he asked, already moving to the fridge to get the package out before he saw the other nod - the man needed meat to build up muscles. Getting two of them out he procured a knife and skillfully cut it in slices which immediately sizzled in the hot pan.

Once they were browned he added the onions, and then peppers and tomatoes shortly after.

"Can I help?"

Turning Loki saw that Anthony was standing next to him, a lost look on his face. It reminded him that he had been asking this question once before, but only now, seeing the look in his eyes, did Loki understand how important this was for him.

_He wants to feel needed. Wants to have something to do._

Because life must have shown him that being idle came with horrible circumstances.

Smiling to keep Anthony from guessing the anger coiling in his stomach like a disturbed snake he suggested: "You can set the table." And before Anthony understood it wrong he added: "For two."

A surprised but pleased look crossed Anthony's face before he ducked his head and set on this task, but Loki had seen it and felt his anger smother under the warm feelings this man could cause in him.

It took only a few more minutes to add ketchup and spices to the sauce, drain the noodles and put both pan and pot on the coasters Anthony had thoughtfully set out on the table. Only then did he see how Anthony had seated them - Loki at his usual place, and himself on Loki's left side where he normally sat, but on Jean's chair.

Pleased he nodded for Anthony to sit down and asked: "How much would you like, my pet?"

The grumbling of his stomach preceded Anthony's answer and he admitted, blushing bright red: "I'm hungry."

Loki smiled, pleased that the man dared to voice that admission but also that he would get to show off his skill in the kitchen to someone who would appreciate it. Putting a good portion on the other's plate he said: "You may eat as much as you want, but remember that you won't be allowed to skip practice only because Sigyn isn't here to join us."

This had Anthony stilling, but not in fear as Loki's inquiring look showed him, so he didn't question it, just added cheese and sauce to his dish before pushing the plate over to him and taking some for himself - he might not have had lunch for most of his life, but all those delicious dishes Midgard had to offer would change his view one day not too far into the future on the necessity of a midday meal.

And it looked as if Anthony shared his opinion. Moaning around a mouthful of spaghetti he swallowed and asked, wide eyed: "I thought you needed Jean to cook you fantastic meals."

Pleased with himself Loki grinned back at his pet. "I'm just not keen on cooking all the time", he explained and then slowly put his finger to the other's mouth, carefully removing a stain of sauce before licking his finger clean. "Yes, I'm good", he decided and smiled at the look his action received.

Not because it had Anthony so bewildered, but more so because there was no fear in his eyes anymore despite all the possibilities he could understand this little action wrong.

The rest of the lunch was spent quiet, just the occasional moan or slurp being heard, and both of them decided to have seconds, though they were far smaller than their first portion. After that Loki poured the rest of the noodles and sauce in a small bowel and put it in the fridge to consume later while Anthony without being asked put their dishes away into the dishwasher.

By the time they were down in the gym Loki had almost forgotten about Anthony's hesitation during the meal, but when he found the man standing in the middle of the room he realized ... "You'll need clothes for training."

Well, Loki could do the Trials in his jeans alright - a bit of strong material was nothing against his Aesir strength - but for a human like Anthony ... "And I don't have clothes suitable for workout."

The man had ducked his head a bit when Loki had first announced his observation, but now he simply nodded and began to pull the sweater over his head. Which wouldn't have been so bad had he not been so stiff, his lips pressed together so hard.

It took Loki only a moment to be by his side and pull his hands down. Carefully he removed the sweater still hanging around his head before it could smother Anthony's breath fully, then he threw it over to the small stool and pulled the man against his chest.

"What did I tell you this morning?", he asked.

The other man's breath hitched but he knew exactly what Loki was speaking about. "I ... I don't have to be naked if I don't want to. But you said-"

Not wanting to hear what Anthony thought he might want he cut in: "Do you _want_ to be naked?"

It took a good long moment before his pet shook his head. "No", he whispered, low as if he was not sure he was allowed to do so. Wasn't sure he wanted Loki to hear at all.

Suppressing the growl building in his throat Loki pressed a kiss into the other's hair. "Then you don't have to", he assured him in a firm tone. "There are other ways to provide you with appropriate clothing." Smiling at the inquiring sound Anthony made he warned: "This may tickle" before letting his magic flow over the jeans.

This time he only heard a surprised hitch of breath, then Anthony settled into the feeling of his jeans being made into something else.

Well, _something else_ ... they were the same, really, just much softer and more elastic - a spell he had perfected when he had to leave his kids to be raised on a planet that knew little more materials to make clothes from than leather and linen and silk.

But it still brought to mind that Anthony needed more clothes. Today and tomorrow they would have to manage, and the day after Loki wanted him to have enough clothes to change them every day. Not to mention clothes for his training - which shouldn't be hard to find on Asgard. _That_ at least Asgard had in abundance.

"Try it out", he said to Anthony after he had finished the spell, and the man extricated himself from him - was he imagining that he did so with obvious reluctance? - to drop into one of the more challenging moves of the Second Trial.

When the clothing gave easily and the man returned back to both his feet there was still a bewildered look on his face, but he smiled at Loki and said shyly: "Thank you."

"This is nothing you have to thank me for." Loki was definitively not thinking too much about why Anthony would think being allowed to stay clothed was something to be thankful for.

Not if he wanted to avoid killing someone, or having his own guilt gnaw at him.

"Come", he said instead and led his pet to where he could see himself better in the mirror along the right wall. "Show me that you haven't forgotten anything after I let you get off the hook yesterday."

It seemed Anthony took this as a challenge, for his smile was a bit more daring than usual when he slid into the first position and the way he held himself and tried to move fluently from one position to the next showed that he was actually trying to impress Loki.

That was ... something novel. The only people who ever wanted to impress Loki had been his kids, and to watch now as this human tried it - and _succeeded_ in it ...

"You have done wonderfully today", he praised when he came to rest next to Anthony after the last round and watched smilingly as the other flushed at his words. "Now, shower."

Again, this eagerness to follow his words, and when he at last stripped in Loki's room, preparing to go under the shower, there was no hesitation at all.

He trusted that he would be allowed clothes again. Trusted _Loki_.

Maybe even looked forward to having Loki's hands on his skin, stroking, petting, fondling him ... Loki had been careful during their first shower today to not touch him more than necessary, but he was sure Anthony liked it. No, he _did_ like it, or he wouldn't have been as relaxed as he was with Loki's hands on him, would he? Somehow it seemed that he understood that Loki wasn't about to rape him, was just trying to wash him and calm him and ... well, if he knew how much Loki liked to touch him, to feel him relax against him, he probably wouldn't be as good with it as he was, but that was okay. As long as he didn't fear him.

Following his Anthony into the shower, carefully adjusting the temperature, Loki bowed down to his ear. "I am allowed to touch you, yes?", he asked, just to be sure. He didn't want to accidentally make Anthony more uncomfortable than necessary.

But it seemed that this was no concern here for Anthony simply nodded slightly. "Yes, okay", he said, again blushing and turning away as if to hide his face.

Still uncomfortable with how _comfortable_ he was with Loki, then.

Loki pretended to be oblivious to the fact that his pet's face was the same shade as Thor's cape and just took the shower head to completely soak his sweet little Anthony. It took him a while to relax, but once he did Loki went back to enjoying how the soft soapy skin felt under his fingers, how he squirmed whenever Loki brushed a partly ticklish point, and the moans that fell from his lips once he washed his hair, his nails scratching the skin on his head and his fingers massaging the shampoo in.

"You are so beautiful like that", he whispered and smiled at the blush that caused.

Well, it had to end sometime, and when he had his pet out of the shower and dried they looked down at the crumbled clothes Anthony had worn till now, lying across the covers of his well-made bed.

The former jeans looked still good though not as fantastic anymore as it had done as _jeans_ , and the shirt was sweaty. Only the sweater was really okay to wear again.

Deciding that he wouldn't have his freshly showered pet in this again he indicated for him to sit down on Loki's bed which he did with a confused look on his face. Then Loki went to get a new pair of trousers and a shirt - both blue, sadly, but then his sweet pet could make everything look good - which he changed to the other's size once he had squeezed himself into them.

Watching as the other smoothed a hand down the fine material of the shirt as if there was dust he might have to remove Loki couldn't help but smile. This man, still so hesitant and not quite sure of himself was still something fully different from the man he had first taken into his house. The man that was spooked by the slightest gesture or word - less than that, actually.

And now he stood tall and proud, not because of defiance but because he actually had pride in himself again.

"Are you tired?", he asked. In his eyes there was no sleepiness, but he wanted to make sure.

Startled the man looked up. "Erm ... no. I don't think so."

"Good." Loki smiled. "Then come, I left my book in the study, then we can go down."

"Down?" Anthony looked confused but let his hand get snatched in Loki's.

Smiling Loki pressed a kiss into the palm he held in his like a precious gem. "I promised you would be allowed to ... tinker again today, didn't I?"

  
  


 

 


	54. A day with Loki III

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again to evilwitch66, who saved them from eating soap instead of soup ...

Having Louis all to himself turned out to be even better than everything Tony might have anticipated.

Well, he had been nervous in the morning because of the clothes, and after that when they sat together in Louis' office it was like every day, but later, when they made lunch together ... Tony was  _happy_ . It was ... he was allowed to help, was allowed to do the same as Louis, and then they ate together at the table as if they were equals.

It was actually only then that it occurred to Tony that they had done that before, yesterday, when they had been eating cookies. And he hadn't even questioned it.

Unfortunately, it wasn't the only realization he came to. "... but remember that you won't be allowed to skip practice only because Sigyn isn't here to join us."

Did that mean he wasn't allowed into the garage again today? Jean had said something about them coming back late today and surely Louis wouldn't like him down there when it was already dark, not to mention whether Sigyn even wanted to go when she came back. And he wouldn't be allowed there all by himself.

_He has promised_ , whispered a voice in the back of his head, and he had to acknowledge that yes, Louis had. And so far he had kept each of his promises. But had he considered that Sigyn wouldn't be available today when he had made this one?

Well, it wasn't as if he could do anything about this anyway, so he just shoved it in the back of his mind and focused on the task at hand - spiraling spaghetti around his fork and getting them into his mouth without sauce splattering everywhere around him.

Not that he wouldn't be willing to lick it off every surface it splashed on as he had to admit once his taste buds got the first sample of the dish. Moaning he faced the fact that Louis was at least as good a cook as Jean was and that his assurance that he could make the best noodles ever was the simple truth.

"I thought you needed Jean to cook you fantastic meals", he said without thinking, his mind lingering on the heavenly taste in his mouth.

He really hadn't expected Louis to lean in and clean his mouth with his finger, or then lick his finger clean, in a move that could have been taken straight from a romance novel.

Which would make Tony the swooning heroine, and really, he felt a bit that way. Fortunately Louis wasn't interested in pursuing that line of action but turned back to his own plate and began to finish it off with an appetite that contradicted his earlier words about Aesir not eating lunch.

After that the afternoon became almost dreamlike - Louis taking him down into the gym and instead of using the excuse of not having training clothes for Tony to have him naked  _changing his jeans into a pair of tracksuit pants_ . Then a shower  _where he asked whether he was allowed to touch Tony_ , and, once he had permission, proceeded to give him a washing that would have made professionals proud (though Tony wasn't sure what kind of professionals exactly). 

And last, but certainly not least,  _he took Tony down to the workshop._

Looking up from the circuit board he was welding together he let his eyes trail over to where Louis had taken a seat in the Ferrari convertible, his shoeless feet popped up on the dashboard, reading in the novel he had gotten from the office. He looked relaxed, and content, and not at all as strange as Tony thought he should look.

Actually ... he looked  _nice_ . Like the nice boy next door type, the one you meet at a coffee shop and take home for dinner with your parents. If not for the collar around his neck Tony could even have fooled himself into believing the guy was as nice as he looked.

Maybe it was the reminder of it but suddenly the skin at his throat began to itch and he scratched it, his fingers worming their way under the green leather and rubbing over the soft skin.

Where being stared at hadn't gotten Louis' attention this did. Looking up with a concerned look in his eyes he let the novel sink halfway down into his lap and asked: "Does it hurt you, my Anthony?"

He shouldn't like the way the fucker said his name, should he? Sadly his body hadn't gotten the message and he felt warmth fill his stomach at the possessive sound.

Licking his lips and ignoring the feeling -  _he had put a collar on him!_ \- he shook his head. "It's just itching", he said as if it was of no concern.

Louis was out of the car anyway and stood beside him within minutes, his fingers running carefully over the leather and the skin around it. "There is nothing to see", he said softly, his hands leaving the leather and then stroking along his neck.

Tony stared at the soldering iron he still had in his hand. He knew that he could never outrun Louis, nor could he win against him in a fair fight.

But being burned would hurt a lot ...

"What is this for?" Louis leaned half over him and looked down at the circuit board.

Licking his lips Tony heard himself answer, not caring much what he said because Louis' arm was only a few centimeter next to the still glowing tip of the soldering iron.

"That sounds complicated", Louis said now, taking his arm away and stroking Tony’s hair in a way that made him want to purr and hide because of this reaction both. "You might want to visit Asgard sometime, their technics could help you improve yours", Louis then continued, and immediately Tony's attention snapped back to him. Tony -  _visiting Asgard_ ?

"I thought they don't like outsiders", he said - at least this was what Thor had told him when he had asked him once.

Louis chuckled darkly. "The  _Allfather Odin_ does not. The rest of the Aesir are much more ...  _open minded_ ."

Somehow this sounded ominous.

Not that it mattered. "I don't think I'll ever go to Asgard", he said and tapped against the leather bound around his throat.

A few seconds of silence, then: "We'll see", before Louis returned to his seat in the car.

It was a bit difficult to focus on his work after that.  _‘We'll see’_ ? Did that mean Louis would maybe take him to Asgard one day? Where Tony might, maybe, get a message to Thor?

Or did he mean it in a different way? Did he mean to let Tony ...?

Forcefully Tony wiped this thoughts from his mind. It wasn't as if he could do anything anyway until that time, though maybe he should prepare for the eventuality.

Before he could pursue the thought longer a gong echoed in the garage and when Tony looked up he saw the garage gate slide open and the dim light of the garden lamps reflected on snow shone inside. A moment later a car appeared in the opening and drove down the ramp to the parking slot Sigyn had set aside for it.

It was just a simple blue Mercedes, but the beige leather seats and the number plate saying RIDE06 showed that some thought had gone into the car.

Sigyn got out of the car moments later, looking first at Louis - who was suddenly sitting with his feet where they were meant to be, as Tony grinning noticed - and then to Tony.

"So, you don't need me?", she teased, and Tony felt his lips quirk up.

"Of course I do", he riposted. "I always need someone to tell me how awesome I am."

That brought a chuckle not only from Sigyn but from Louis as well, who then asked his chauffeur: "You are late. I expected you back at least an hour earlier."

Sigyn just shrugged. "You know how Jean is. 'No, this is not fresh, I want something better for Christmas.' Really, I'm amazed we managed to come home today _at all_ . Ah, that reminds me - Anthony?" Seeing him nod she continued: "They finally decided on a tree, and Mary asked whether you want to help her decorate it tomorrow."

A tree? They bought a _honest-to-god Christmas Tree_ ? Tony was nodding before he had fully processed the question. "Of course", he said. It might not have been tradition in his father's household, but since the Avengers had been moving into his tower he had collected a lot of Christmas stuff and every year anew Steve had them decorate their living quarters. And the reception hall. And the floors.

_Everything_ , really. 

Actually, now that he thought about it, it was a bit strange that there were no decorations around Louis' house. Did he not like Christmas?

Obviously yes, if his groan was anything to go by. "And here I thought she might have forgotten."

Laughing out loud Sigyn patted him on the shoulder. "Mary? Forgetting Christmas decoration? Are you sure you haven't lost you mind?"

A huffing noise was her only answer, then Louis continued: "Does Jean need help with dinner, then?"

"Maybe." Sigyn shrugged her shoulders. "You can ask him, though I don't think so. He was planning the whole way home, and I think we would only be in the way." Turning to Tony she smiled. "You might want to continue, or otherwise turn the power off."

Realizing that he was still holding a hot soldering iron he hastily reached over to turn it off before he carefully laid it down. "Sorry" he murmured sheepish.

Sigyn just shook her head amused before she wound her way over to the Roadster. "I could actually use your help with this old boy at the moment", she said. "I don't know what happened, but the ignition is giving me problems since I finished with the paint yesterday."

Glad to have something to do he followed her over, pushed his too long hair out of his face - he could call himself lucky that his beard wasn't as long yet - and then tried to find out what was wrong with the ancient car this time.

Still, something was different, and it wasn't hard to find out what - Louis was here, and he was listening to every word, his eyes trailing over Tony more often than the words of his novel, or at least that was how it felt to Tony.  _How is one supposed to focus when a look like this follows you around?_

But the thing was - it might be distracting, but it wasn't  _bad_ . It actually felt good, warm,  _comfortable_ to know that at least a part of Louis' attention was always on Tony.

Tony Stark, attention whore. After living with - and being ignored by - Howard Stark in his childhood he had always needed others to know he was there. Was  _alive_ . Was doing something  _worthy of praise_ .

And Louis never left a doubt that he knew where Tony was and  _that he liked him_ , making him somehow feel happy and protected.

The gong from the kitchen startled Tony out of his thoughts and he almost hurt his head against the roof of the tailgate when he jumped up.

"Careful", Louis murmured. "You may still need your head."

A blush creeped over his face; he didn't like being this jumpy. "Yeah, well, my hair needs to be kept somewhere." The hair Louis obviously liked so much.

Louis just laughed. "That, too, yes."

"Stop your flirting and come eat", Sigyn cut in and pointed Tony to the sink before following her own advice and scrubbing her own hands.

"Flirting?", whispered Tony when they were both occupied with the hard soup while Louis waited for them.

Sigyn raised an amused eyebrow at him, before suddenly turning sober again. "Oh,  _no_ , it's not like  _that!_ ”, she said hastily. “I'm just teasing him, it's not that he wants anything from you."

Tony wasn't sure how to respond to that. On one hand he was glad that Louis wasn't interested in his body, on the other ... he hadn't even  _thought_ of that. He had actually liked talking with Louis in that way, being a bit saucy and carefree.

Swallowing he returned to the man who ran a hand through Tony's hair before wiping over a missed spot at his jaw. "Let us move, else I fear we'll miss dinner."

Sigyn snorted. "As if Jean would ever allow that! You do remember just last week, when he threatened to have you force-fed should you continue to spurn his meals?"

Louis -  _being picky with his meals?_ Somehow Tony couldn't picture that, even though the annoyed look on the man's face said that yes, this really had happened.

But before Sigyn could tease him further he held the coat out for Tony to slip in and as comfortable he felt with his new master - he wasn't ready to try his patience by not immediately grabbing for the clothing and shrugging it on.

And he had done better this way, because Louis didn't wait another minute before he opened the door to the garden, leading their little procession outside.

"I can expect that Jean found everything he was searching for?", Louis said once Sigyn had closed the door behind them.

Grinning she turned around. "Well, yes, everything but a decent new Wok."

That seemed to be an inside joke for Louis grimaced. "He'll never let me live that down, will he?"

"That you accidentally burned his favorite pan with one of your experiments and can't restore it for the same reason? He won't even forget it if you gift him a better pan for Christmas.  _Every single year_ ", Sigyn answered full of dark glee.

Rolling his eyes Louis grumbled something that Tony didn't catch, but it seemed to include words about a certain warrior in need of a knockdown.

Not even the sharp wind or the cold on his hands could keep the corners of Tony's lips from tilting upwards - this good-humored teasing and mumbling felt like home, like the tower and the Avengers, and he felt a warmth in his chest that he wouldn't have expected to feel but reveled in nevertheless.

Once they were inside again Tony inhaled the warm sweet smelling air - even two days later regular airing hadn't managed to get the smell of baking cookies out of the house, not that anyone had really tried to get rid of it - and felt his lips curl up in a honest smile.

And then Louis turned to him and saw his smile - and returned it. A hand reached for his cheek and the hot skin on his cold face felt wonderful. "You haven't even seen what Jean found for you yet", he reminded Tony. "Maybe he bought an inferior solar panel?"

Tony hadn't even thought about that, hadn't thought that he might get something, too, and the surprise must have been plain on his face for Louis chuckled amused. "Well, I hope you haven't forgotten what you needed it for."

Swallowing the sudden lump in his throat he shook his head, before following a still chuckling Louis into the living room, still feeling stunned by the fact that Louis had had Jean buy something for him.

"And here I thought you weren't coming anymore", Jean greeted them before turning to Louis. "I hope you don't mind me going crazy with your AmEx?"

Raising an eyebrow Louis asked: "Did you clear the account?" He didn't seem particularly worried about that.

Jean snorted. "Not fully, I guess."

"Not for lack of trying", Mary said dryly. "I've had a washing machine full of nothing but socks and briefs."

Socks? Briefs? Why would Louis need new briefs? And why would he have  _Jean_ buy them for him?

Before he could think more about this they reached the couch and he sank down, his eyes on the big pot Jean had deposited in the middle of the table. He vanished again and Sigyn went over to lift the lid and peek in.

A wonderful smell emitted immediately and he heard his previously uninterested stomach growl loudly.

Blushing he hid his face by looking to the ground, but he could still hear Louis laugh at the sound. "Don't worry, you'll get something shortly", he said, and then he sat down beside him. "Actually, Jean would be angry if you didn't."

"If Anthony didn't what?", Jean asked when he came back in, carrying a basket with steaming bread.

Both Louis' and Sigyn's head snapped up and zeroed in on the bread. "Onion-bread?", he asked, his voice as hungry as his eyes.

Jean carefully put the basket on the table. "Yes. It didn't need too much time, and you wouldn't get full by the goulash soup alone, would you?" He eyed both of the Aesir with extreme wariness. "You’re not going to eat me, are you?"

"Only if that's the only way to get to the bread", Sigyn answered, causing Jean to huff.

"I can't make you more then", he cautioned before he pulled a knife out of the basket and held it out for her. "It's still warm", he said to Tony while Sigyn cut thick slices from the loaf. "If you think your stomach can't take it just stick to the soup, or wait until it cooled down."

Tony nodded in acknowledgment, but he thought it wasn’t likely that he would react badly. He had been eating everything mixed together for years, why would he react badly now?

Well, because his stomach wasn't used to such experiments anymore, obviously, but he still thought he had gotten better again. So when Sigyn passed out the slices and Louis looked questioningly to him he nodded eagerly. Grinning the man requested a second piece of bread.

"You're just hoping Anthony won't eat his", she grumbled which had Louis grin widely.

In the meantime Jean had filled soup bowls with the contents of the pot, and the combination of the warm, homey smell of freshly baked bread and the rich haze wafting from the  soup had his stomach go crazy.

Blushing again he heard Jean ask: "And here I thought Lo  _shared_ his spaghetti with you."

"He did", Tony mumbled.

"How could I not?", Louis inserted lightly. "Without you I couldn't have made it."

Pride filled Tony's chest, even though the praise wasn't much. It helped him raise his head to accept the first spoonful of broth from Louis - well,  _broth_ ; there were chunks of soft-cooked flesh inside, and some carrots and peppers, everything so tender in seemed to melt on the tongue and only left a heavenly taste.

Moaning around the taste in his mouth he found he had closed his eyes to better appreciate it. Opening them again he looked at the piece of bread that Louis held out for him.

Not surprisingly, it was as good as the broth. More surprising was actually that Louis managed to feed him without spilling even the smallest bit of broth, even though they both went through several helpings of it before Tony had enough.

In the background the news came up on the TV and he watched while Louis - and Sigyn, too - went through the rest of the bread and broth like hydrochloride acid.

Once they had finished the meal and the news had given way to some romantic movie that Mary seemed eager to watch Tony settled in for another quiet evening, but got disrupted by Louis trailing a hand along his cheek and saying: "Come, we'll go see what Jean brought back for you."

Not sure why Louis should be that interested in a solar panel Tony nevertheless went up to his feet and followed his master back to their -  _his_ \- bedroom.

There were several bags left on the chairs and tables, and a high pile of briefs and socks sat on the green duvet of the bed.

Looking a bit longingly their way Tony didn't immediately recognize when Louis said: "Well, we'll have to find a place for them. I can't just put your things with my own, can I?"

Tony stared at him. "My ... things?", he asked, his voice faint and thin.

Louis turned and smiled at him. "Yours", he confirmed. "When we dress you, then we should do so properly, don't you think?"

The sudden lump in his throat and the tears gathering in his eyes came without forewarning, and he swallowed hard and blinked to keep from showing how much this meant for him. How much his chest filled with an ache that was anything but unpleasant, warmth radiating from there and making him feel happy beyond words.

Louis had not only thought of him - he had gifted him even more clothes - seemed to want to allow him wearing them in future, too, if that stack was anything to go by.

"Thank you", he whispered.

He felt the other coming over, a hand stroking over his cheek and tipping his head up. "It is my own pleasure to see you happy", Louis said, his voice as earnest as his eyes.

And Tony felt himself tear up again. Thankfully Louis only stroked him another time over the cheek before he let him look down to collect himself again.

"Get them, I'll show you where to put them", Louis said and when Tony managed a weak nod he went over into his closet.

Gathering up the briefs he couldn't help but notice that they were very fine things indeed - the briefs cotton, merino wool and even something that looked like satin, black and kings' blue and deep wine-red, but also a few skin-colored ones. The socks, too, were fine cotton and thick woolen ones, marine blue and black and gray, meant to keep his feet warm while going without shoes as well as fitting a wide range of clothes choices.

There were no price tags attached - Mary had to have cut them when she washed them - but he remembered both Jean's and Mary's quips about Louis' AmEx, and this showed easily that Jean really hadn't been stingy.

And Louis obviously approved.

Like a dog getting new toys, he thought, but there was no heat or humiliation in this thought. Indeed, he didn't even really believe it anymore, that for Louis he was nothing but a pet. Or when he was, then Louis had strange notions about what to do, what to  _allow_ a pet.

Particularly the part where he had cleared a part of his own wardrobe for Tony to put his clothes in. A part that even his new possessions couldn't fill up.

"That should be enough for now", the man stated once Tony had put his new clothes in and Tony thought he was talking about the clothes before he continued: "I don't think I'll find so much tomorrow that you need more space. Well, if you do we'll just have to move a few more of my things."

Staring at the cleared part where his few belongings looked a bit forlorn in Tony swallowed. Louis thought he might need more room? For clothes?

Tony felt dazed. How many exactly did he plan to buy Tony?

But he couldn't pursue the thought, for in that moment Louis turned around and looked at him with a wide grin as if he was looking forward to a new surprise to spring on Tony.

Tony wasn't sure how many more surprises he could stomach today, even when all of them were as good ones as the rest of them.

"Do you want to help me get through the pile?" At least this question sounded harmless. And Tony was curios what else Louis had sent Jean to buy, so he nodded eagerly.

As it turned out -  _everything_ . There were some articles of clothing that from the name of their designer Tony knew were custom-made, so Jean had probably only picked them up. A set of knives that looked rather expensive and would have made Natasha envious. Pralines in some very high-class selection. Tony's solar panel (that made his heart flip when Louis offered it to him, because it was exactly what he had wished for). A set of cables that he hadn't dared to ask for but gotten anyway (Sigyn must have been much less oblivious about his troubles as she had let on). A CD. Then an obscure looking bag full of herbs and stones and whatever that Louis sat aside after carefully inspecting every article inside. Another clothing bag, this time with a pair of fingerless gloves, that Louis gave over to Tony - "I won't have you freeze just because there is no way to properly heat the garage." And that still wasn't the end of it.

In the end Tony wasn't surprised anymore that the others had been gone for so long - he was rather surprised that they had managed to come back today _at all_ , what with Jean and Mary choosing something for themselves, too.

He was also feeling spent - he had skipped his usual midday sleep, and all these surprises on top of a good meal left him tired.

Thankfully Louis caught on to this and shooed him to bed before he fell down. Stripping his clothes felt almost easy today - he wasn't worried about not being allowed to wear them again anymore, not after Louis had speculated that the space he had cleared for Tony might  _not be enough_ \- a thought that was still too intimidating to really comprehend.

And when he snuggled under his covers he thought that Louis must have mixed up the dates - there was no way Christmas hadn't come for him _today_ .

 


	55. Sitting at the table

Loki liked visiting Asgard, meeting his friends and siblings and looking after his son ...  _sons_ , in a way. That he could do so without Thor knowing - even though it meant he had to be stealthy and hide his identity from most of the Aesir - was just an added bonus.

This time, though, there was a drop of bitterness in this - he would have to leave his pet behind. And even with how much he liked the thought of picking out clothes for Anthony, and maybe a ribbon or a clasp to keep his long hair tamed, he didn't like the thought of him feeling abandoned.

But it had to be done. Not only because of his own pleasures but also because of Balder and Idunn who had asked for his help, and the meeting Byleistr had requested. He was still a prince of Asgard after all, heir to the throne - and wasn't it ironic that Odin had never stripped him of that title? After all, there was no rule that a prisoner could not inherit the crown of Asgard, and had Thor and Odin died while he still resided behind bars he would still have become king of Asgard before anyone else.

Feeling his lips quirk in an ironic twist he found the determination to get up and wake his pet with a gentle hand on his shoulder, smiling even wider - and more friendly - at the adorable display of Anthony's sleep-tousled look. Relishing in his amusement he stroked a few strands back behind his ears before leading him into the shower and enjoying his sweet pliant body under his hands when he washed him. The way he moved with him, becoming as used to him as a lover might, and wasn’t it a strange thought that this man, who he had fought for years now, had become one of his closest companions?

Leaving the warmth of the bath took effort, but he managed when he saw his pets fingers becoming pruney. He was also looking forward to seeing Anthony choosing his own underwear - it would give him a hint as to whether he could leave him to choose from the clothes he would buy him today, too, or whether he had to pick them out for him every day.

Obviously not; when Loki invited Anthony into his closet with a look he followed willingly, and after a short time caressing the meager pile of clothes - Loki wanted to give him more, so badly; he wanted to see him clothed like the prince, the hero he was - he chose dark red pants and a pair of brown woolen socks that Loki very much approved of.

He had feared the man would try to go for the least expensive things - there was a reason he had instructed Jean to choose only the best - but that was obviously no concern for his pet. And there was no way not to notice how good the red panties looked with his tanned skin.

The clothes Anthony slipped into after that were the same ones as yesterday, the blue not really fitting him, and Loki thought longingly of the wine-red leather trousers Asgard had to offer, and how they and maybe a gold-colored tunic would complement his tanned skin. Additional, well ... Loki had always loved gold despite it being seen as lesser than silver - and how he had laughed when he had found out that on Midgard it was the other way around - and he would love to see Anthony decorated in golden jewelry. Suspected the man would like it, too - he liked red and gold, didn't he? Would he fly around in a red-and-gold armor otherwise? 

Squashing the thought Loki reminded himself that it would be unseemly - one only gifted jewelry to one's close relatives or, most likely, spouses, and that he was more than permitted to decorate his pet as he wished was not really helpful; he didn't want Anthony to feel owned in that sense.

Growling under his breath he turned to his own clothes, deciding he could skip dressing as a Midgardian today and would already wear Asgardian leathers for breakfast. Not having to change again would save time he could use to come back faster.

And the heavy weight of the leather and metal armor was ... familiar, almost soothing. The stability of it reminded him even more than the well-known movements of closing clasp and straps and buttons ’ – a task that had taken him half an hour once, and only minutes now – what a fool he had been not to not to see that Anthony would long for the comfort of his clothes.

At last, with every strap pulled tightly and the fit adjusted, he looked up - right into Anthony's wide eyes. Seeing he was caught looking the man blushed and bit his lip, but held his gaze - an improvement that Loki rewarded with a soft smile.

"Yes?", he asked.

Anthony's hand went up to his collar - a nervous gesture? - but he answered with barely any more hesitation: "You ... you really are into leather?"

Loki felt his smile turn amused. "It's a good material to make sturdy clothes from when you don't have the industry Midgard has, not to mention that with their hunting habit Aesir collect animal skins like magpies do jewelry." Only when he had spoken it he realized that he hadn't included himself with the Aesir. Disturbed he tried to distract both himself and Anthony from that, even though they both knew he wasn't Aesir, which meant that this shouldn't be a problem here and yet at all. "It's also a very easy material to take on spells of protection." And the metal added to it made sure they didn't fade away with time.

But that wasn't exactly what Anthony was about. "And ... you're not staying here today?", he asked, his voice sounding a bit lost.

Because he normally spend his day with either Loki or Sigyn, and today they would be both gone.

Loki felt himself melt at the lost-puppy-look in those big brown eyes. Two steps forward and he was standing next to a startled Anthony, his hand finding their usual place in his hair with ease and for a moment he relished in the feeling of the strands sliding along his skin before he decided to help Anthony relax and pulled him to the bed. A soft gasp escaped his lips when Loki seated him between his legs on the duvet, then he took the brush from his bedside drawer and began to unravel the gorgeous but tangled hair.

He so wanted to just pull the man against his chest, but that wouldn't be a good idea with what his pet had been through. No, better to let him calm down in this way, being protected in Loki's embrace and relaxing slowly under the familiar motion.

"Don't worry", Loki said. "You'll not be left alone. Mary will keep you company in the morning - remember, you promised to help her decorate that tree. And should you still have time left over you can read your papers while she's doing the books." A warm smile slid over his face as he remembered how adverse he had originally been to having someone else managing the household books, but Mary quickly proofed herself to be quite efficient and he never did throw more than the cursory glance over it.

But back to the man in his lap, who was listening intently even though he seemed to be fully absorbed in having his hair brushed with long lazy strokes. "Later you can help Jean make lunch - he'll prepare your cheeseburgers, and since you enjoyed eating them that much you may want to know how to cook them. I'm sure he'll be delighted in explaining everything to you - in his own way he is as much a genius as you are, and he loves sharing his knowledge almost as much as he loves showing it off." An amused huff and an aborted motion, as if Anthony had tried to turn and then remembered that he should better stay put for the brush.

Loki ignored the implied nervousness and just allowed himself an amused chuckle. "Oh, well, I suppose we all are this way", he said lightly, his free hand stroking Anthony's side reassuringly.

"When will you be back?" The question was voiced low, warily. The eyes of his pet trained carefully on the floor.

It took Loki by surprise. It shouldn't, not really, but ... well, in the end it seemed that Anthony had a way to surprise him. Even when they first really talked - he hadn't acted on such a childish impulse as this man had caused with his quip about his manliness in ages. And now he was so ... he acted as if he  _needed_ Loki, cared about where he was for reasons beyond Loki being his master. And even though Loki knew that this wasn't about him he couldn't help but be endeared about this.

Pulling his pet in a bit more with his free hand slipping to his waist he answered: "My business off-world should not take more time than until after lunch, but in case it does you can use my office or the bedroom to sleep, or stay awake and help Jean and Mary with the house." Giving in to the urge to be nearer to his pet he pulled him right in and pressed a kiss into his hair before whispering: "I'm sorry, pet, for disrupting your daily routine three days in a row now. I promise, I'll try for Sigyn to return to you in time for your workshop-time." Stroking his side again he took pride as well as comfort in the fact that Anthony wasn't trying to take advantage of his new freedom of movement, not even to just wiggle in a more comfortable position.

Instead he ... well, he held himself rigid, but he was swaying more in Loki's direction than away. "It's ... thank you", he whispered eventually, and then there was a sound that might almost be a sob.

Loki just held him while he shook occasionally as if crying silently. He didn't seem to wish to be away from Loki, though, so he was happy to just hold him and stroke his hair, trying hard not to think why such a simple promise would break this man least he might go out and kill whoever he found and endanger his plan to have them all be punished.

It was the gong that eventually broke them apart, Anthony jumping to his feet at the sound and turning to face Loki.

There were no traces of tears on his cheeks, or of desperation in his eyes, but then Loki supposed that one having grown up like Anthony would have learned to hide such traces of his emotions, probably long before he ever became a slave. Loki at least had had to learn this ability, and Anthony had been raised to be a prince as well.

Smiling reassuringly he stood up - slower than his pet - and motioned for him to precede him down the floor and staircase.

They were waiting for them in the kitchen, concerned looks on their faces as Loki had thought they might, given that Loki hadn't failed to turn up in time for meals for the whole time Anthony had now been with them. Actually, Loki had been pretty predictably the whole time as well, trying to offer his poor pet some regularity to anchor him.

Offering the whole bunch of them a smile to - hopefully - convince them that everything was alright he went to the table, then stopped when he saw Jean sitting next to his chair.

Jean, who had told him that Anthony sometimes liked kneeling, but not always.

And he remembered, very vividly, Anthony' pleased reaction to being allowed at the table yesterday.

Turning he took in the image of his pet whose whole body language showed that he was preparing to go down on his knees. He didn't seem unwilling about it, and yet ... there was that contentment missing that he showed when he went down in Loki's office, or the ... dare he call it  _eagerness?_ when he sat by Loki's knee in the living room.

This was no hardship for him, but it was also no pleasure, and Loki found himself unwilling to give him anything but.

"Move, please", he said to Jean, and, when the man blinked in confusion: "The floor is too cold for Anthony."

It was no real explanation, but then Jean hardly needed one after he had been the one to point out the difficulties to Loki at first. Grinning he saluted - "You're the boss, boss" - and moved his plate a seat further before standing up to put Anthony's setting where his had been before.

None of the others commented on his change of heart, though Mary had initially raised her eyebrows before deciding that this was nothing that needed further observation and fiddled with the cream. She only acknowledged that something was wrong when Anthony failed to come over, frozen somewhere between kneeling and standing, and asked him: "So, young man, you're having problems with my coffee machine?"

"Problems?" Anthony's voice sounded faint, but at least he adjusted himself and moved over, seating himself warily as if he expected Loki to call him out on a wrong-doing, as if he expected punishment.

Well, doing what Loki wanted deserved no punishment. Pulling the bread-basket over Loki offered Anthony his choice of the still warm croissants and baguettes.

Startled brown eyes stared at him for a moment before the man took a croissant. "Thank you" he mumbled, his fingers holding the pastry as if it would bite him.

Smiling at him, deliberately acting like nothing was wrong Loki replied: "It's my pleasure." And it  _was_ \- beneath the surprise and the wariness he could see how Anthony slowly took another step toward being a human again. He was allowed at the table, with all of them and not only when he helped with the meal preparation or hidden in shame with Loki alone - he was  _equal_ to them in this, and Loki allowed him to show it.

But he was still too nervous about this change in status, and Loki was grateful for Mary to continue to tease Anthony, distracting him with the banter the human had always been so good at.

"Well, you've been bragging about making a coffee machine that makes my coffee?" Grinning she offered him the butter.

Blushing Anthony took the butter dish, then, after a moment of fiddling, put a bit of it on the tip of his croissant. "I ... I'm just not ready yet", he mumbled before taking a bite as if to hide his nervousness behind the pastry.

He was too adorable for words. It took a heroic effort for Loki to not reach over and pull him in, maybe kiss his hair or just stroke it in affection.

Instead he reached for the butter himself, spreading a bit on his knife and used it to grease his own croissant. "You have outdone yourself again, Jean", he praised.

The man in question looked up and grinned. "You don't have to butter me up - I know that Anthony is your favorite."

The teasing made both Loki and Anthony freeze up - Loki, because how the fuck could he be so obvious, and Anthony ... hopefully not because he thought this meant Loki would rape him or something.

Looking over to the man in question he saw that he was slowly recovering. But before he could say or do anything to reassure him Mary said, as if the previous exchange hadn't happened: "And when do you think you will be ready, young man?"

That managed to bring Anthony out of his stupor. "I'm not actually that young, you know?", he said.

Mary just made an unimpressed face. "I'm almost twice as old as you, so that should probably be  _very young man_ ", she answered.

Something flittered over his pet's face and in a voice he hadn't heard yet from him since he had come into Loki's house he flirted: "But you don't look your age, Lady Mary, therefore you can't call me  _young_ ."

Snorting Mary backed off, her twitching lips betraying her amusement about this flattery.

Loki was impressed - he had seen Jean surrender to Mary often enough, and for Anthony to win over her in a game of wit ... smiling he pulled the strawberry jam in and offered it to his pet who blushed a bit - self-conscious, remembering who he was,  _where_ he was - but spread a bit over his croissant and then bit it off.

There was no moan as Loki had given the first time he had tasted this, but his wide-open eyes and look of pure bliss showed that he was equally delighted by it.

"Jean made the jam himself", Loki explained and smirked at the praise Anthony instantly offered their cook.

It was wonderful. Anthony was relaxed and happy, and Loki wanted nothing more than to stay with him here, introducing him to the different jams and how they tasted on the croissants. To watch how he tried the sweet cheese Jean always bought for himself and came to the conclusion that Jean could really keep his cheese to himself.

He  _liked_ sitting here, watching how Anthony drank his coffee and then went up to get himself another cup without asking or even a questioning look over to Loki. 

Though he  _did_ look wary over to him when he slipped back in his seat; Loki made a point of looking slightly amused but relaxed - he didn't want his pet to think he had done something wrong when he hadn’t. Had actually pleased Loki by acting so much more himself.

But alas, he needed to be on his way, and once they had finished the meal he bowed over to Anthony, stroked once over his hair and assured him - and himself, if he was honest, too -: "I'll see you in a few hours. Be a good boy for me, yes?"

And even after having been abused, after everything he had been through, Anthony looked up at him with trust in his eyes and nodded shyly.


	56. Decorating the Tree

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just wanted to wish you all a merry Christmas, though I'll admit, it's almost over ...
> 
> Again, a big thank you to my Beta [evilwitch66](http://archiveofourown.org/users/evilwitch66/pseuds/evilwitch66//)

The house felt ...  _empty_ , somehow, without Louis in it. Tony knew it shouldn't, there were still Mary and Jean here in the kitchen with him and Louis had walked out only minutes ago, but  _still_ \- it felt as if the most important part was missing suddenly.

Slowly he touched the part of his hair where the man had caressed him in parting, almost feeling his warmth still lingering in it. That had felt ... wonderful.

As had the rest of the morning, he had to admit. He was still surprised when he looked at the table -  _down on_ the table instead of  _up to_ it. Felt still that disbelief at hearing Louis call him over, tell Jean to move to make room for Tony.

It still felt surreal - sitting here at the table, having Louis encourage him to choose his own breakfast and see the amused smile when he actually forgot his position and went up to pour himself another cup of coffee without asking for allowance.

Neither Jean nor Mary seemed to find anything wrong with the change of normal but Tony wasn't deceived: He remembered Mary teasing him lightly when he was too surprised to come in, remembered Jean continue that with his own words to Louis. Yes, they were always chatty at the table, but it had felt different this time.

As if they had tried to help him get rid of the irritation rather than really speak to Louis.

Swallowing he looked up at the two of them.

Jean had already finished eating and was now engrossed in making plans for the day, asking Mary whether she needed help with the laundry or the dusting. The look the woman gave him at that would have had even  _Tony Stark_ ducking his head, but Jean only smiled.

Mary on the other hand snorted and swallowed a bit of her baguette. "I'll have Anthony helping me." A look to him. "You wouldn't leave an old lady like me to do all that on my own, would you?"

And, well, maybe Tony really was slow but he understood suddenly that these two were neither Louis nor Sigyn. Where those two wouldn't think twice to order him about these two would ask, but never presume for him to do something.

He could say  _no_ , and they would accept it.

It was ... a  _strange_ thought.

Belatedly he realized that Mary had asked him something and answered, his lips deliberately curled up in a flirting smile though he suspected that it wasn't looking as genuine as normal: "Regardless of her age I would never leave a lady to do that on her own, least of all a lady as charming and beautiful as you."

Mary chuckled while Jean shot him an unimpressed look. "She's been doing that for years now, you know?", he said but became quickly hushed by Mary.

"Still, lad, you're just jealous of the gentleman over there."

Jean, who had looked as if he wanted to say something, got interrupted by an entirely unwilling snort. "Jealous? Why, pray tell? Because the boss's fawning over him? Heaven forbid he tries that with me, it's bad enough that he's using me as distraction when he's worked up a tantrum and Sigyn's not available!"

It took only a few seconds for Tony to work out what Jean meant by ' _using me_ ' and to feel an irrational burst of jealously on his own.

Before he could think further about this Jean suddenly looked over to him and said, his voice hurried and trying for comforting: "Not that I hope that he's doing that now with you! He wouldn't. He likes you, and just being with you calms him down, and he wouldn't do that to you!"

It took a moment for Tony to realize what Jean meant. Strangely, he had forgotten his fear that Louis would rape him and he tried to tell Jean that, but he couldn't explain his certainty and so the words failed him. "He promised ...", he just began, but trailed off when he found that this promise somehow seemed too intimate to share.

Mary nodded understanding. "He promised you he wouldn't ... use you against your will? Then he won't. Louis doesn't often make promises, because he will go to great lengths to  _keep_ them, and there are not many things he thinks worth that trouble."

But he thought  _Tony_ worth that trouble. He could barely believe it, even though he remembered the strange weighted quality the man's voice had had when he made that promise, back then six days and a lifetime ago, but also every time since. He had thought it was only because he wanted to make sure that Tony believed it, but maybe there was more to it.

_You won't be hurt._

_You won't be raped._

_You won't be starved._

Promises he had kept, at least till now, when it would have been so easy to break them.

_I like you naked._ But later, when Tony asked whether he was allowed to wear clothes again ...  _Of course. Unless you would prefer to go without, though I guess that is not the case_ .

A shiver ran down his spine at the thought. He couldn't explain why, but having someone confirm what he had suspected ... well, it somehow gained more weight this way.

"Come", Mary said now. "Let's go start the washing-machine and then we'll decorate the tree." She stood up and Tony hurried to follow.

Starting the machine meant first collecting the used clothes from everyone's rooms, then take them down into the laundry room - obviously the task Mary had requested his presence for because it was he who carried them down into the basement, in a room he hadn't noticed before. Then she quickly sorted them into the five baskets waiting there before emptying one of the baskets in the washing-machine.

For Tony it was ...  _surreal_ . He hadn't seen a washing-machine in ... well,  _forever_ . Actually, the last time he remembered using one he had been at university, and without Rhodey explaining their use to him he wouldn't ever have known how to get rid of his dirty laundry. So that he was standing here now, watching Mary load the machine and add detergent and fabric softener was really strange.

After she had started the machine Mary straightened again and looked over to him. "Ready to wrestle with the tinsel?", she asked, her undertone indicating that a  _No_ wouldn’t be very well received.

But Tony found himself grinning. "Yes", he answered, and when Mary smiled he hurried to follow her up to the living room.

Someone - probably Jean - had already set up the tree, a thickly needled bluish green thing that practically begged for some colorful baubles and lights and enough tinsel to make the snow outside envious.

And it wouldn't have to wait for much longer now, for there were several boxes standing next to it, all of them filled with decorations sorted by colors, and shapes, and ... edibility?

"What do you think?", Mary asked. "Which color? We had red and pink last year, and blue and silver the year before. Maybe something golden? Louis likes gold."

Gold sounded nice, so Tony nodded while he skimmed over the boxes. Beside the past year’s colors there were another two colors - violet and green - but also silver and golden birds, red candy cane, a chain of golden beads and probably a lot more he couldn't see at the moment.

His first inclination was to say  _red and gold_ , but then this were his favorite colors. 

And on the other hand ...  _all_ the colors were nice.

"Can't we just ... I mean, they look all so ... cool? Can’t we ... can't we use all of them?"

Mary blinked for a moment, then began slowly to grin. "Of course we can", she said. "Not sure what Louis's going to say, though, but then he's hoping I'll forget the decorations anyway, so who cares about his opinion?" Still smirking she took the lights out of their box and then nodded for him to help her.

Decorating the tree was amazing. Some time after they had fixed the lights on the aromatic branches Mary pulled out a CD with Christmas songs from the racks, and soon after  _White Christmas_ accompanied their efforts.

And the tree looked  _wonderful_ \- colorful baubles turned it into a Christmas tree straight out of a child's drawing book, but who cared? Most of all when Mary went to get some cookies with thread pulled through and hung them between the tinsel.

Grinning Tony looked at the tree until Mary tucked his arm and indicated the room around them. "Let's move forward" she said, and yes, there was still enough to decorate the rest of the room, too. Enough for the whole house, actually, and the garden, too, as long as they didn’t try to make every tree a Christmas tree.

In the end they spend more than two hours decorating the living room, but also the hall downstairs, the hallways, the kitchen and library and the piano room upstairs. Mary even put an festive wreath on Louis' office desk, and another garland at the inside of his bedroom door, while she went a bit more crazy with Sigyn's room - though she left it not as heavy loaded as both her and Jean's room.

In the end it was only the grand hall that wasn't decorated, but Mary made no move to do so. "It's never used anyway", she explained, but there was some darkness around her eyes that Tony didn't dare question.

"Anthony? Mary?", Jean called out just as they were occupied putting the empty boxes away.

"Here", Mary answered, looking up but making no move to put the boxes in her hands down, just turning her head in the direction of the kitchen.

The man only needed a moment to turn up on the stairway, immediately taking the boxes from her. "You could have called for me, I would have taken the boxes", he scolded.

Mary rolled her eyes. "As if I couldn't do that. And I have help." She looked pointedly over to Tony, who was carrying his own pile of empty boxes. Really, it wasn't heavy, just a bit uncomfortable to carry seeing as the boxes were piled high enough that he could barely get a look at the stairway over them.

"I guess that's not why you called?", Mary asked and Jean nodded.

"Actually, Louis said you might want to enjoy helping me cook, Anthony? What with it being Cheeseburgers today and them being your favorite dish."

Tony nodded eagerly. "Yes!" He really wanted to learn how to prepare them even though he would probably never need that skill in his life.

But neither of them made mention of that. Instead they brought the boxes down into the cellar store room - another room he had never encountered before, and come to think of it, there was another room down here, right next to the gym, that he had never taken notice of.

Catching his look Jean grinned. "That's the sauna. Good for ogling sweet young ladies, when you know what I mean ..."

His lascivious smile wasn't holding long as Mary laughed and said: "As if you would ever dare to ogle Sigyn, Jean. Not to mention the fact that she's older than us three combined."

Jean shrugged his shoulders. "She's still looking like thirty-something. And I was more meaning generally, not exactly Sigyn."

"Yeah, well it's not as if there are other young women around here."

"I can always hope for Amora", Jean said. "Or Idunn and Jinaki."

Mary almost choked at a laugh. "Idunn? I'm not sure you would survive looking too long at Lok-Lo's sister. Not to mention Jinaki - I think she’d rip your head right off."

Jean grinned. "I love living dangerous, you know that." But there was something in his eyes telling Tony that Mary was right, and that Jean really wouldn't dare hit on these girls.

Idunn ... mmh, the name sounded familiar. Just where had he heard it before ...?

"Pah, just go cook, lad", Mary waved him away before she went over to the washing machine to pull the laundry out and  put it in the drier. 

Jean rolled his eyes good-naturedly, but followed her advice and lead Tony up to the kitchen where he actually showed Tony how to prepare cheeseburgers, complete with how to make the meatballs from scratch. He even let him fry them and then put on the buns instead of just having him cut salad and tomatoes - a task he joined in for once.

It took them probably longer than Jean would have needed alone, but he was very patient with Tony, so he almost felt bad for sitting down at the table with the two of them, a cheeseburger on his plate before him, and asking: "If I wanted to leave now, what would you do?"

  
  



	57. Asgard

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, you want to know what happens to Tony ...
> 
> Happy New Year to all of you!

Asgard was as it had always been - huge, golden, and shiny, even more so in the midday sun that shone down from a clear blue sky. Actually, there was only one realm who may be as shiny as this, Loki mused as he stepped from the platform he and Sigyn had arrived onto. And that one realm was Jotunheim on a sunny day - lots and lots of ice sparkling in the white light of the foreign sun hurting even Aesir eyes, or so he had been told at least - he had been in the realm of his birth many a time, even more so now that he was the official ambassador of Asgard to Jotunheim, but he had never managed to catch a day when the clouds overhead cleared away despite king Byleistr's assurances that yes, these days existed.

King Byleistr - his  _brother_ . It was still a strange thought that he had relatives on Jotunheim. Well, he had imagined it may be so when he was a child and had barely grasped that he was no Ás, but he had never imagined to meet one of them, even less so his brother -  _brothers_ \- and ... his sire, probably. Or father - he was not sure what Farbauti was to him, and he couldn't very well ask the Jotun about a child they never spoke about and must think slain by Odin Allfather.

But still -  _siblings_ were Thor, and Idunn, and Baldur. He would even call Amora and Sif and every single of the Warriors Three a sibling before he claimed the king of Jotunheim as such.

"My prince?"

The soft inquiry broke Loki's chain of thoughts and he looked up to where both Sigyn and Heimdall looked at him with slightly concerned looks on their faces - well,  _Sigyn_ looked concerned, Heimdall's face never really showed anything but his usual stoic façade, but that he looked at Loki at all instead of in the stars or wherever else he might look was tellingly enough.

"I'm good", he reassured Sigyn, then nodded to the guardian. "Heimdall", he greeted.

The man immediately bowed, though not very deep as was his privilege as the Guardian of the realm, with his sword arm over the chest and his eyes barely ever leaving Loki. "My prince. Welcome home."

_Home_ .

There had been a time - a  _long_ time, even - when this word had been  _anything but_ Asgard. It had started when he became aware of the lie his parents -  _foster parents_ \- had told him, but it got stronger until the moment when Odin Allfather actually ignored his advice concerning Thor's coronation. 

He had been really frustrated then.  _Before_ , he had thought he had gotten back in Odin's good graces, back into the circle of people Odin loved, after the discovery of him being an Avatar of the Great Powers - the Avatar of  _Chaos_ even - had thrown him out of it. But over the years, when he proved himself to be as cunning as Odin, even more so than Baldur ever would be (but then there was a reason he was the Golden Child even more so than Thor) he had grown closer to Odin again, became something of an adviser to his father.

Or at least he had thought so until Odin rejected every word of him concerning Thor and decided to have him crowned much too early.

As much as Loki had grown bitter towards his brother he wouldn't wish that fate on anyone: learning that everything everyone ever told you was wrong, and you weren’t nearly as capable as you thought. That you have to rely on others to ever be anything even close to acceptable when you have been told to be capable of  _everything_ all your life.

It wasn't that Loki didn't think that Thor needed a lesson in humility, but  _this_ ? This would rob his brother of all his self-esteem, his self-confidence, would take from him every chance of ever being the king Loki knew his brother could be.

And so Loki had chosen a different path, a path that lead eventually to madness upon discovering that Odin really didn't care for him at all, lead into the titan's waiting arms, to Midgard and then, after a brief detour through Asgard's cells onto it's throne.

A throne he had fled barely half a year after he had taken it, having grown bored with only the council as players against him and restless from the anger still burning within him.

Anger, because Thor would rather play around with his human friends -  _strangers_ that nonetheless had accomplished what Loki had tried to do for hundreds of years! - than learn to become the king Asgard would need him to be one day. And that after he had for once acknowledged that Loki was the wiser one of the two of them, that he,  _Thor_ , still had much to learn to become the king Asgard needed!

Sigyn's careful touch on his shoulder made him aware of both his growling and the arrival of Sif who lead a pair of horses over to them.

Instantly he straightened his back and smoothed his face back into a polite but blank facade - he might trust Sigyn and to a certain extend even  _Heimdall_ with his true emotions, but not Sif. Not  _anymore_ , at least.

Her greeting was curt as always, but at least missing the undertone of hostility that it had held for a long time. That he had abandoned the throne had confused her, but it was his continuing work for Asgard that had gotten him a bit goodwill from her despite Thor now and then returning with stories about Loki's misdeeds on Midgard.

And wasn't it ironic that only Thor's continuing absence - how often had he been on Asgard since he left it? Three times, four? - and his unwillingness to speak about Loki to anyone but his friends and siblings made it possible to keep him in the dark about Loki's position at court?

Good, Loki's return wasn't such a wide-known fact, but it was still known throughout both the Silver and the Golden Guard, the servants who knew everything that happened within these walls, and there were some Lords and Ladies who knew of it as well as Loki made a point of never hiding his identity when he wandered the halls of the palace. And he wasn’t even taking into account the rumors spread all through the city.

Really, one would think his brother would have found it out already, but he was still as oblivious as on the day that Baldur and Idunn had sworn Thor's friends to secrecy.

Loki hadn't believed they would keep that promise, but having  _Baldur_ of all people - the best general a warrior could hope for, a man who would have been a better king as an adolescent than Thor was now, the shining star of the royal family despite him not being an Avatar - explain to them the reasons for it had kept their tongues tied. Though Loki supposed that their understanding of the importance of his role as ambassador to Jotunheim and Ljósálfarheimr to keep the peace was also a sign of their growing up. Which might or might not be tied to Thor's continuing absence to enjoy his other friend's company, which must feel like abandonment to them.

A part of him - and Loki wasn't too proud to admit it was a rather large part - squealed in glee that they now felt what Loki had felt too often in the past hundred years himself.

But he also knew that showing too much delight in their plight would smother every bit of goodwill she felt towards him so he just returned her greeting with an equal curt "Sif" before he took the reins of the dark brown mare he so often chose as his own while Sigyn swung herself on the other horse in a smooth motion.

Still, he waited for a moment before taking his place in the saddle, too. "I trust all is well?", he asked Sif.

Of course, he had spoken to Amora only days before and Idunn or Baldur would have called on him had there been a problem, but still ...

Sif wasn't looking particularly thrilled at being used as a messenger, but she replied nevertheless. "Not much happened since you've been here last. Mmh ... we have visitors from Ljósálfarheimr who arrived yesterday. Their queen sent a group to speak about trade and the upcoming festival in honor of her second daughter coming of age, and their spokesman voiced his astonishment at finding both the crown prince and the ambassador absent, but since we've awaited your arrival today anyway ..." She shrugged.

Caught between delight at the prospect of having Ljósálfar to trade insults with and annoyance that he wouldn't have the whole day to search the markets for appropriate clothing for his sweet little Anthony he pulled himself into the saddle and then let the mare canter up the bridge toward the palace, Sigyn and Sif spurred their horses to fall behind him.

The way from the bridge to the palace lead over one of the busy streets of Asgard, Aesir, animals and carts mingling with the few foreigners allowed on the station, and while a prince might order them to move aside for him and his entourage, the veil he hid his true identity under to avoid the turmoil should the people of Asgard become aware of his presence forced him to slow his steed as every other rider would have to do, too.

Still, they only needed a quarter of an hour - an Asgardian hour, Loki reminded himself - up to the wide golden doors of the palace, where the guards immediately straightened upon seeing him.

Loki hid a grimace; Baldur they would have greeted respectfully, Idunn with honest love and Thor with loud bonhomie. For Loki himself they only had the cold respect owned to his station as a prince of Asgard, despite him being the one who brought peace to their realm.

Sometimes he wasn't sure why he even bothered with them. Then he saw Sif swing out of the saddle beside him, her eyes holding anger at the cold greeting of the guards despite her own having been not much warmer, and he remembered that family wasn't something one chose for oneself.

Quickly he jumped out of the saddle himself and threw the reigns at one of the approaching stable boys who took them with a small bow - at least  _they_ respected him for his handling of the horses, and for Svaldivari and Sleipnir. Nodding to the boy - Sven? Arndt? - he strode away toward the bailey - at this time of the day the guards would train there to improve their skills and Odin would never pass up such a possibility to both show off Asgard's might and leave the impression that attacking it was ...  _unadvisable_ .

As he had expected the guards were training - some of the Silver Guard who protected Odin Allfather and the crown prince when he chose to walk his home's earth, but also the Gold Guard tasked to protect the lesser princes such as Loki himself and Baldur and princess Idunn, but also the palace at a whole. Mingling between them were the noble warriors living at court and even a few of the City Guard, though they were only a few as the privilege to train in the bailey wasn't given to just anyone.

There were also a few Ljósálfar between them, and Loki watched with honest curiosity as they contested against Aesir fighters and also against Asgard's archers. Though by what he saw it went as expected - their archers were skilled beyond anything Asgard could boast (though Clint Barton might fit in well with them), but when it came to close combat, be it hand-to-hand or with weapons ... well, no-one ever expected the Aesir to be quite  _that_ fast. They looked slow and heavy in their armor, but people kept forgetting that many of them had worn it almost since the day they learned to walk and that the moves of combat had been forced into them until they could fight off an attacker before they even awoke. Ljósálfar were quick and strong and trained. But Aesir warriors were much stronger, had been training harder, and were not nearly as slow as the Álfar expected.

Had this been a true fight, it would have ended in a bloodbath.

Hiding the smirk that threatened to break free upon seeing the obvious defeat of the Álfar he went over to the balcony where Odin stood and watched as his warriors laid waste onto the foreign guards, while the spokesman and his closest companions - his attaché and his consort, judging by their cloth and the way their hair was done - stood beside him and tried to keep from looking impressed.

Well, they were good; Loki didn't think anyone but him and a few more attentive Aesir knew of it.

"My King", he said, setting step out of the shadow and indicating a bow - enough to satisfy formality, but not too much for they were not at court and Odin was, after all,  _his father_ .

The Ljósálf gave no sign whether or not he had managed to surprise them, though they all looked up and watched him curiously when he approached.

Odin on the other hand just waved him over. "Loki. It's good to see you returned to your home." No sign that he was happy to see Loki when he gave a short wave towards the Álfar, and though Loki knew that it had to be this way he felt himself hurt a bit. "Queen Risquar of Ljósálfarheimr has invited us to her daughter's coming of age feast. Speaker Triand is here on her behalf."

The Ljósálf bowed in the way of his people, certain in his knowledge that Loki as the ambassador of Asgard to his home realm would know it to be a greater honor than him trying to emulate the Aesir way. "It is an honor to meet you, Prince Loki", he said. "The tales of your deeds had me looking forward to this meeting for a long while now."

Loki felt a smile tug at his lips, honestly happy to meet the Álf, but he contained it as he gave a well calculated warrior's bow in return. "I, too, am honored that a Speaker of Ljósálfarheimr has heard of me, and then one as renowned as you, Speaker Triand. Is it true that you were present when the Skrulls tried to invade Aran-fer-Liya?" The tale had it that the Speaker had actually been there between the warriors fighting off the other race from the biggest city this particular planet of theirs maintained.

Triand looked surprised. "I wasn't aware that the tale of this has spread even to Asgard, but yes, I was there." He seemed quite pleased that Loki knew of this.

Well, there was more he knew. After all, this man who looked so unspectacular with his plain dark gray hair and irregularly patched dark skin, wearing nothing but the simple dark brown shirt and trousers of his vocation, had not started his life with the wish to Speak of other's achievements and form alliances but as a warrior who did those deeds himself.

And had been damn good doing that.

Loki was determined to enjoy his presence to the fullest. "It has not, actually, though you may yet tell it as it may inspire some Aesir to claim both book and sword as their chosen weapon." Grinning he then turned to the two Álfar waiting to be introduced. "But I see you haven't come alone."

A proud smile adorned Triand's face when he indicated his consort, and it wasn't hard to see why: Her hair was the color of the nightsky, her skin dark and smooth like freshly peeled chestnuts with the typical lighter patches along her chest, arms and belly in complete synchronization. Eyes light like the full moon returned Loki's curious look with intelligence and warm humor, the ridges above them painted a beautiful turquoise that made her eyes seem to glow and went along stunningly with the equally green-blue dress she wore - too close fitting for Asgard's standard, but then Ljósálfar didn't do dresses very often.

She wasn't beautiful in the way Aesir measured beauty, but Loki knew enough about their customs to know that she must turn a lot of heads on her home realm.

"My consort, the Lady Acila", Triand introduced, and Loki allowed his double-take to show before he took the hands she offered him in the custom of her people.

Pressing his forehead against her wrists before kissing the backs of them in the Aesir way Loki looked up at her again. "Beautiful, intelligent and full of wit - your husband has to be a very lucky one that you chose him, Lady of the Chronicles."

She smiled warmly - maybe out of calculation, but then maybe also because under the usual stiff way of the Ljósálfar she was really not a creature of intrigue. "And you are as much of a charmer as I've heard saying of you, Prince Loki." A flicker of her eyes, then her smile changed to a more mischievous one. "It seems to me that with such a tongue you should have a consort yourself already. Will we be meeting them, or are you still hiding them from the world?"

Breathless at her daring Loki forced a sad expression on his face. "I fear that I still have not found the person I wish to spend my life with", he said regretful, actually letting a trace of his true feelings be heard.

"Oh", she said. "In this case, you may wish to attend the Princess Saliar's feast. Maybe you will find your companion there."

Loki could barely keep from gaping at her. What was Queen Risquar after that she would have one of her highest ranking archivists and her husband, the most renowned Speaker of Ljósálfarheimr, send over to try to persuade him of thinking about a marriage with the Royal House of the Ljósálfar?

"Maybe I will", he agreed, more to the spoken than the unspoken offer though she wouldn't know it. But really, his interest was piqued so maybe she had already accomplished her mission.

Before anything else could be said between them Triand drew his attention back to the third Álfar, a much younger woman judging by the lack of wrinkles around her eyes though Loki had never gotten quite the knack of reading the Álfar's ages. She, too, was nice to look at, but less stunning as Acila; her skin too light, the hair more auburn than navy in the light of the midday sun and styled like a warrior's - a Speaker's attaché which was nothing else but a personal bodyguard.

Still, the way both Acila and Triand smiled at her and the way she stood towards them in turn spoke volumes - they were lovers, but quiet ones as Ljósálfar might tolerate polygamous relationships, but only as long as they were kept out of the public eye.

"Lieran, Slayer of the White Wolves", Trian introduced her, and Loki felt his eyebrows rise.

At least he couldn't complain that Risquar hadn't tried to impress him. "Slayer of the white wolves? Please, Lieran, we have to go for a bout - I have never had the pleasure to fight against someone who could subdue one of Ljósálfarheimr’s greatest beasts."

Her solemn composure lifted a little when her lips curved in the hint of a smile. It changed her image from that of a warrior to a woman, and Loki had to revise his first impression of her - she might not be a stunning beauty by Ljósálfar standard, but with the right dress and this smile she could turn quiet a few Aesir heads.

"It would be my pleasure, Prince Loki", she said, then indicated the courtyard downstairs. "How would now suit?"

Loki smiled and accepted. "Now would suit just fine", he answered, then looked up to Odin. "By your leave?"

His monarch nodded slowly, then made a gesture to indicate they should get to it.

Behind him Loki felt Sigyn shift slightly and both Triand and Acila looked up sharply while Lieran obviously had known about his bodyguard for the whole time.

The Álfar way was to introduce everyone important and someone you entrusted your life to was considered important. Had they been on Ljósálfarheimr or had he been here in his official position as ambassador to their realm, Loki would have introduced Sigyn. But he was here as prince of Asgard and the Aesir way was different, so while he honored their guest's customs by allowing Lieran to address him he did not introduce Sigyn, who followed them both on silent feet downstairs.

  
  



	58. Fighting Warriors

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, you're probably going to hate me, but ... no, that's no Tony chapter. That's the second half of the last chapter - Loki fighting Lieran. But I promise that with the next one I'll continue what happens with Tony.
> 
> Again, a big thanks to [evilwitch66](http://archiveofourown.org/users/evilwitch66/pseuds/evilwitch66//) for betareading.

It did not take long for them to find an empty place on the square. Once they understood that their womanlike prince wanted to fight with the visitor's bodyguard a ring formed around an open space into which Lieran and Loki stepped.

"Do you wish to warm up?", Lieran offered.

And Loki was glad that they had come on horseback, for the motion had woken up his muscles. Had he had to ask for even a few minutes ... well, he knew what most of the present warriors would call him despite the fact that every single one of them would have done the same.

And even though he looked down at the Aesir a part of him – a part that was bigger than he wanted to admit even to himself – simply couldn't accept them seeing him show even the slightest weakness.

So he declined with a simple shake of his head and brought himself in position, glad that she was familiar enough with the Aesir way not to ask him whether he wanted to change clothes - an Aesir warrior would never wear clothes he couldn't fight in, and while he had never seen himself as a simple warrior this was something that had been ingrained deeply into him.

Taking her position opposite Lieran returned his greeting bow, and a hushed silence fell over the place, though Loki saw some warriors make bets on the outcome of this fight and wondered how he scored. He was a good fighter - given his build he might not have the full strength of an Ás but he was agile even beyond normal Aesir standard and had invented his own style of fighting at a young age by adopting parts of the women's fighting style into his own, not to mention that he had continued to study other fighting styles like the Aelfar's own as well as some Midgardian's - a necessity of trying to keep Thor alive.

But despite him being an able warrior he was also a magician - a scientist. And warriors seemed to be inept of understanding people capable of using both their mind and body, something that had them dismissing him as womanly despite him having defeated more than only a few of them. Despite him having defeated  _Thor_ in hand-to-hand combat more than once, and his brother was one of their greatest.

Shaking these thoughts from his mind he resolved to observe Lieran. To defeat a warrior like her he couldn't afford to become distracted.

And there it was, that sign he had been looking for - a slight twitch of her food, a cut off gesture with her hand - and she was suddenly in his face much faster than he had anticipated. Maybe Sigyn was right - always fighting against the same few heroes (though Reeds and his squad had added a bit of diversity in the last months) had made him complacent. He was too used to their Midgardian slowness and Sigyn's moves who in turn were, while not predictable, yet familiar.

_This_ was  _not_ . He had to block the hit, then recoiled from the kick that followed. Well, he should have anticipated that she was capable of using both her hands and her feet despite it being an ability underdeveloped in a lot of fighting styles.

And him analyzing this fight would just end with him losing it - there was a reason he preferred to keep his distance until he understood his opponent. To win he had to shut his brain off and just allow his body to react with moves it had been trained into for almost as long as Loki was capable of walking. He  _knew_ that dance and shouldn't have to struggle with keeping up with her motions.

Lieran knew that, too, judging by the frown marring her forehead, but that wasn’t stopping her coming up at him. _And gaining the upper hand._

Something that Loki couldn't accept. Being defeated by her on her own turf? Okay. Even being defeated after a long fight would be  _somewhat_ okay.

Being defeated by her in his  _home_ after just a  _few minutes_ , with most of the  _Royal Bodyguards_ , his  _king_ and the  _visitors of_ _Ljósálfarheimr_ bearing witness to his shame?  _Simply unacceptable_ .

Breaking out of his defensive position he swung his hand out, coiled it into a fist just before connecting with her side, then sidestepped her own attack and turned quickly around so he faced her again.

She took a step back to regroup and he let her, knowing that he needed that moment for a breather, as well.

A small smile began to form on her lips. "That's more like it" she said approvingly before dashing forward again.

But this time he was prepared. Where before his brain had stood in the way he now let his body take over, relaxed in the dance he knew so well. A kick to his shin which he sidestepped, blocking her fist going to his jaw then throwing out a hit himself that was meant to be blocked before kicking at her kneecap and using that distraction for his true attack, a hit right into her ribcage.

She was fast enough to move out of the way, but he still caught her in fleeting and seeing as he had laid most of his strength in this blow this was quite enough to make her lose her balance for a moment.

Not one to miss a chance he immediately advanced again and followed the first blow with a second to her chest which she blocked, a kick to her knees that she barely dodged, then he turned on himself to gain momentum and kicked hard into her side.

But Lieran wasn't a Speaker's bodyguard for nothing. Instead of blocking or dodging she caught his foot, than twisted it in some mean way that would have caught most Aesir by surprise, maybe even left them with a broken ankle.

Not Loki, though. He had learned fighting from some Midgardian masters, and those fragile humans had come up with some interesting tricks to make up for their weakness. And so he just allowed himself to be turned until Lieran, surprised by his compliance, loosened her grip just enough that he could twist free, tug the leg in again and roll away. 

Warily he came up in a stand, and he had done good so - the warrior had overcome her surprise and was awaiting him with a blow to his head that he barely blocked, hissing at the force with which it reverberated through his body from where her fist connected with his forearms, then swung his leg out to knock her legs out of her. She managed to jump back in time, but it gave him the time to find his feet again.

Lieran stood back for a moment, eying him with new respect. "This is not a move I have ever seen used before" she admitted.

Loki grinned. "You wouldn't", he agreed. There was a scratch on his forearm filled with blood, probably from where he had rolled over the stony soil. He considered licking it, but then decided that it would be a waste of time - he could do so after he had defeated her. "Maybe you should visit Midgard one day - I have learned much from them." And with that he was already moving towards her again, his hand poised to go for her throat.

Again, she dodged, then used a move that he had never encountered before to bury her elbow in his side -  _Ouch!_ did it kick the breath from out of him - and then kicked him from behind in the kneecaps.

Unable to move just now Loki felt the kick connect and just went with the force instead of trying to stand his ground, letting himself fall. He knew he had only one chance here to survive this with his dignity intact, and that meant he had to ... throwing his head back hard he felt it connect with her jaw - not what he had been aiming for, but he would take what he could get. Then, when she recoiled on instinct, he threw his arms behind him, somehow managed to get his weight poised on them and then flipped over in a move that he had never thought possible out of bad Midgardian Animes until he stood again.

He probably looked as surprised that this had worked as Lieran, who stood opposite him, blood running from her mouth.

She wiped it away, winced a bit when she touched her chin, than spat more blood out. "And here I thought you held Midgard in no high regard", she said.

Nothing Loki wanted to answer for fear more Aesir insisted upon visiting his holiday retreat, but he couldn't let this stand here like this. "They had a few inspired warriors in their past, but now they spend their time mostly discovering the universe" he said, hoping this would dissuade any would-be visitors. No warrior wanted to visit a realm full of scientists, though Lieran, coming from a realm similar split as Midgard, might feel intrigued.

And yes, there was a light in her eyes. "Well, maybe I'll come to learn from you then, instead", she said, then moved forward to attack him.

Grinning he welcomed her with a kick, then they were at it again.

And Loki found that he had  _missed_ this. Fighting strong opponents, having to approach his limits to be able to keep up with them. Before - _before all this happened: Thor's crowning, Loki's exile, Thanos and Midgard and his brief holding of the Asgardian crown before he returned to Midgard_ \- he had been fighting with Thor and Sif and the Warriors Three on a regular basis. Yes, they had had their differences, but they had been  _friends_ , and Loki could barely believe that he had forgotten how things had been between them.

Volstagg, who had joined Thor and Loki when Baldur was sent away to learn being a general at a garrison on the planet. His father was a Lord who thought to have his title passed on along his line despite that being a foreign custom - though, in all honesty, so had been  _royal_ heredity before King Smoll, great-great-great-grandfather of Odin, who inherited the right to rule from his father - by having his firstborn son play with the king's sons. To his chagrin neither seemed Odin inclined to grant his wish nor Volstagg to wish this title for himself. 

Hogun, Thor's solemn bodyguard with the mysterious background who Loki had tried to trick a smile from while Thor smothered him with his usual overbearing self until the half-Vanir had no choice but to become their friend.

Fandral, who was a Lord's third son and Loki's companion in his tricks and mischief and small thieveries before he grew up and decided becoming a member of the Silver Guard was his goal in life. He had been Loki's guard for a while, sharing his life as Sigyn did now, before his restraint - and how had he laughed at hearing his friend being described so! - and capability had him being invited to the Silver Guard, somehow leading to him joining their group of adventurers for real.

And Sif. Lady Sif, as some called her without taking notice that they belittled her with that honorific because Sif was much, but  _no ladylike scientist_ , and to call her by that title just caused her anger.

She had joined them rather late, having lived on the planet all her life with the soldiers her father commandeered and coming to court only when she was well into her puberty. At first she had tried to fit in with the ladies at court, but despite her being smart and having a wit sharp enough to dissuade any warrior from trying his tongue at her, she lacked the focus and intelligence needed to further science along.

So she had turned to the warriors, and when Fandral tried to impress her with his sword she had simply challenged him and impressed  _him_ in turn with  _her own_ abilities. Alone from the look on Thor's face when he watched her defeat Fandral Loki had known that this girl, still clad in a frilly red dress and swiping a strand that had escaped her much too complicated braid out of her sweaty face, would become a permanent fixture in his brother's life.

They had been friends, once. Had been fighting and drinking and laughing and ... and just spending time with each other for more years than most Midgardians lived. And then Thor started to change, lost his innocence and let the constant cheer and praise go to his head. At first it had been only Loki who felt that something was wrong - Loki who pointed out that they shouldn't do  _this_ or  _that_ and was being called a spoilsport and coward for it. Then Hogun and Sif joined in, a few times even Volstagg and Fandral, and had he been thinking straight Thor would have known that something that even  _know-no-fear Fandral_ cautioned against couldn't be a good idea. But he had only seen it as a challenge, until he got a sharp lesson about consequences by Odin himself.

And how did the fool reward their loyalty? By turning away from them fully and toward a few Midgardian pets! The sharp pang of pain he felt at this thought distracted Loki almost enough that Lieran could get under his defense, but he managed to block her with his arm in the last moment, hissing out a curse at his dumbness. He should be focusing on this fight, damn it!

Lieran seemed to think so, too, for she used his distraction for a new attack and aimed a kick at his kidney. Dodging her foot Loki found himself with an unsuspected opening in her defense and he threw his own arm out, aiming by instinct alone. When his fist connected with her solar plexus he was actually surprised, but not enough to not follow his first hit with a second, then a kick at her chin that she couldn't escape and at last a hit on her back that had her crashing down.

He was on her in seconds, keeping her down in a safe grip, and asked: "Do you yield?"

Well, he could have made it much more of a production, could have called out her title to further the importance of his win, but he chose not to. It wasn't good to rub your superiority into the face of people you might yet like.

And Lieran was no sore loser - after she made sure that trying to escape would end with a dislocated shoulder she accepted her defeat. "I do" she said, going lax in his grip.

Loki smiled and went up, offering her a hand to help her up, too, which she grateful took.

"You have a solid punch, Prince Loki" she said, rubbing her stomach.

Grinning Loki answered: "As do you, Speaker Attaché Lieran." Then he offered her his arm in the traditional warrior grip. "Loki."

The woman's eyes widened in surprise, but she accepted his offer with a smile of her own and a grip like steel around his lower arm. "Lieran."

Only then did Loki take notice of the warriors surrounding them again. They had been rather quiet compared to a fight of Thor or Baldur, but not as quiet as they could have been, and when he looked up now he saw men and a few women alike collect their wins, even received some unexpected nods.

Well, they  _were_ warriors. And despite his unusual style he still was their prince, and he had won this fight fair and without magic - which was the same to them - so he had probably also won some respect back with them. 

Who would have expected that?

  
  



	59. Asgard II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ... I think I'll just say nothing. Aside from sorry? ..... For being silent for so long? ......
> 
> As always, many thanks to [evilwitch66](http://archiveofourown.org/users/evilwitch66) for beta-reading thi chapter, but I've been adding a bit after she did so ... well, all mistakes are mine anyway ;)

After the fight Loki would have liked to excuse himself from further meetings - not because he feared it would bore him, but because he felt sweaty and his leathers stuck to his skin and he was feeling greasy all over, and while Midgardian sanitary installations had become much more advanced since he first encountered them, it was still a far cry from the public baths of Asgard - not to mention the bath at the palace that easily overshadowed everything else Loki had ever encountered elsewhere.

Still, it was not possible for him in his position as ambassador and prince, so he - like Lieran - had to suffer the discomfort of leather on damp skin. However, contrary to her he had to take an active role in the ensuring political maneuvering instead of just wallowing in silence in his plight.

And that was anything but easy; a Speaker was a cross between a priest and a judge on Ljósálfarheimr, but while they were often sent as emissaries they held no actual official power in their home realm, meaning that while to offend them was considered unwise and could even lead to a severe political debacle they could not make laws or sit in any political body.

On the other hand they were the advisers of both the people and the crown, and might also be the best-educated people in the whole nine realms, too, as Loki had learned as a younger man traveling through the universe to learn under whoever might be willing to teach him.

Still, it made speaking to them difficult and tiresome, and while Loki enjoyed this under normal circumstances, he just wished to go about his business today.

Wished to escape to the markets, to buy gifts for his sweet Anthony, and to the meadow to meet his lover and maybe his son as well, before he had another meeting to attend to at sunrise and was allowed to return home to Anthony. Really, he hoped he would be able to get home fast - he didn’t want for Anthony to feel interchangeable. Forgotten.

At long last they came to an understanding and the audience ended. Loki found himself sighing in relief, when he saw King Odin winking for him to follow him. 

For a moment he thought to resist, but then - he was king, wasn’t he? And the image must be preserved. So he just inclined his head and followed him slowly through the halls to the king’s private library.

When he had been a boy he had spent many a hour here with his father and oldest brother, learning the secrets of the universe and simply enjoying being invited to their company when Thor was barely ever allowed in here. It was a stronghold of knowledge, a place where books from all over the universe could be found, waiting on intricately carved stone shelves for someone to pick them up and seek their secrets.

The room was large, even with the lights hidden within the shelves it was barely possible to make out the whole of it. And these were only those works that had been deemed too sensitive to be transferred on the more resilient but also much more accessible public library.

It was something that still halted Loki’s breath - there were thousands, millions, billions of books and works that every Ás had access to, done by Aesir and Álfar, Midgardians and Muspelar and every other race they could gain knowledge from. And still, still there were more, and a good part of them, the most dangerous part, was here, hidden behind unassuming wooden doors - strengthened by seals that opened only to a touch of the royal family of Asgard - and guards that were selected from the best and most loyal of the Silver Guard.

Entering the library brought back memories of younger days, of happier days, and so Loki almost thought it an illusion that there should sit a girl by the fire-place that looked almost like a younger version of Frigga herself. But then the fire cracked again, flames flaring a bit, and he remembered who this woman really was that was awaiting them here absorbed into a thick book. 

She was as beautiful as Frigga, her long honey-gold hair barely held back by a silver circlet that had already slid down over her brow, and her very feminine shape was flattered by a long pale green dress flowing down to the sandals her feet were wrapped into. The fire gave her an almost ethereal glow, but then her cheeks were blushing from excitement, too, and the shine in her eyes had nothing to do with the fire at all.

Smiling, his heart soaring in happiness, Loki approached her quickly and pulled her into a tight hug that had her squeaking first in fright, then in delight.

"Loki!", she called. "You are here!" Joy and mischief glittered in her turquoise colored eyes and Loki barely managed to avoid the spell she cast at him with a snip of her fingers.

"Idun!", he tried for sternness, but it dissolved into an indulgent smile and a small chuckle at her joyous laughter.

"She learned from the best, brother", a voice behind him said and Loki turned, not surprised to see a much younger man where mere moments ago Odin had stood. His copper hair was cut to shoulder length, and the usual leather and metal armor - unusually colored brown and blue and silver - only accentuated that he was generously muscled and quite large, his movements still fluid like a dancers. Though it was his  _brain_ , the intelligence that shone in his gray-blue eyes, that made Loki's oldest brother the greatest warrior Asgard had.

Smiling he extracted himself gently from his sister's iron grip to grab Baldur's forearm in a warrior's greeting, happy to see the man that had always supported him.

Not that Baldur would allow him to get away with formality, for he pulled him into a proper hug, crushing him tight enough that Loki thought to hear his ribs crack - so like Thor in this at least, his oldest brother. "I have not spoken as myself to you for nearly three months, brother", he said chidingly. "Don't try to cold shoulder me."

Loki nodded slowly, giving in and returning the hug with all his strength, making Baldur's ribs crack in turn and a surprised huff escape his brother. "I would never", he said, then hesitated a moment before admitting: "I was not sure what you would think ... of me."

Baldur froze for a moment, then pulled back a bit and looked into his face as if searching for a truth only he knew was there to find. " _Brother?_ ", he asked, almost uncertain. "You sound more like yourself than when last we spoke. Actually, you sound more like yourself than you did for a long  _long_ time now. You  _act_ more like yourself, too." The last was said as if Baldur was trying for amusement with his mentioning of Loki's challenge to a fight to Lieran, but not quite managed it; it sounded still serious and slightly questioning.

Blinking in surprise Loki did not know how to answer this, at first, but then felt his emotions well up and the truth spilled out of him: "I feel more like myself than I have for longer than I care to remember, as well."

He felt ... somehow vulnerable for confessing this, but Baldur just nodded to him. "That is good", he said. "Then maybe I will get my youngest brother back. I have missed his mischievous ways, for he has been much too earnest and malicious as of late."

His brother was right, and Loki had no idea how to answer this.

Idun did, coming closer and putting a hand on his upper arm. Her eyes searched his worried when she asked: "What happened? You were still so bitter and brittle when you visited only last month and spoke to me, but today ...  _today_ I heard you fought in front of the whole court  _for fun._ You spoke to the ambassador of the Ljósálfar, but ... that's not what brought such happiness into your heart. And I hear a lightness in your voice that I do remember from when we were both much younger." Her small hand came to rest lightly upon his chest, her face showed her confusion, but also hope.

Sometimes it was hard to remember that under her childish appearance she was an adult, too. But not today, when she looked up at him with serious eyes and asked again: "What happened to you, brother?"

And there was only one answer to this, wasn't there? " _Anthony_ ."

Both of them blinked in surprise. "The man you spoke about with Amora four days ago? The Iron Man? I thought you loathed him as much as Thor cared for him!" Baldur sounded astonished.

But then he would, wouldn't he? Because he was  _right_ . Anthony  _was_ the Iron Man, and not half a year ago he would have complained bitterly about him.  _Had_ complained about him.

Now, though ... "He is not the Iron Man.” How to explain it so they would understand him? “He ... they tried to break him, but they could not. He is still here, and alive, and ... he tries to fight back, still, tries to heal, and such a spirit I couldn't allow to become extinguished."

Both his siblings stared at him with amazed looks on their faces. "You care for him", Baldur said eventually. "You care for him deeply."

Slowly Loki nodded. "I do", he admitted. "He is ... he is very dear to me."

"Will you tell him who you are?" Idun's childish eyes sometimes really saw too much.

Shifting uncomfortably he escaped her grip, and his place between them that felt too much as if he was caught. "I ... no. I don't think that would be good. It will be better for him to remain unknowing about my true identity."

"But will you fight him again?"

Idun's words might seem innocent, but the glint in her eyes was anything but, and so Loki twitched back. "I do not think that's any of your business!", he hissed, trying to cover up the sting her words had left in his chest.

Baldur shifted back as well, looking stunned, but Idun just nodded as if he had confirmed her suspicions.

Loki feared he had, as he feared he had found something within himself he didn't want to find out.

Growling he turned around fully and prowled out of the room.

  
  


?Â¿

  
  


Amora found him when he had had time to calm down, wandering the market stands in the guise of an unnamed stranger, his pale skin yet red-blond curly hair giving barely any indication as to where he came from.

It wasn't unheard of for strangers to visit Asgard's markets – there was a reason they were the most famous ones in the whole of the nine realms. There were four – the biggest one, that Loki now walked, very near to the castle, the other three more at the outskirts of the station. 

They all had in common the liveliness of Aesir going about their business. Stall owners from all over the nine realms and beyond called for customers to buy their goods, exaggerating merits and remaining silent over any flaws.

In their calls, bold and practiced, mixed the screams of animals, sold as food or pet, and the loud clangs of the smiths wielding their hammers. Every now and then there would be an explosion, or a loud outcry, but it quickly drowned in the all-encompassing chatter of the patrons, loud and excited. Visiting the market was often a family event, and so there were young couples, searching for their first household. Parents looking for clothes and steal and good armour, while their kids ran about shrieking, played between the stalls to slay invisible monsters and rescue damsels that just too often would turn out to want to have nothing to do with their childish games.

Every so often a kid would run into an older As, an event followed by loud scolding and pounding feet, and daring laugh.

Not that any of the scolding had any effect – Aesir were a people that only wizened up in old age, and so the parents of these trouble makers would most often not even take notice of their offspring's chaos, choosing instead to scan the goods brought to them from beyond their station.

Not that Loki could blame them – hadn't he come to the market as well, in search for clothing fit to be worn by his sweet Anthony?

And there was plenty of this – fabric in all the colors of the rainbow and some that would never appear in one. Material stiff as uncared for leather, and some gleaming like metal, or glittering as the sea in the sun. Fibers as soft as down, and warm as a fire. There were cloths for everyday use, and others for feasts. Court armour, worn to festivals – no Aesir worth his sold would wear armour that hadn't been made especially for him to battle. There were even stalls offering ribbons and dresses and  … well, around everything.

_And this wasn't all._

There were jewelers, and black smiths, and woodcutters, their offers ranging from finest trinkets, to the sharpest weapons and toys for children. Kids begged for one of the tamed dragon-like lizards of Muspelheimar, or a tamed Ta-anka, one of Ljósálfarheimr's shoulder-high green wolfs with their typical long mane and short-tempered character.

And if one did become hungry? There were almost as much food-selling stalls as there were any other stalls – “An Aesir who isn't hungry is an Aesir beyond Death's door”, as was a saying in the other realms, and so there were many who offered creatively cooked meat, and exotic fruits. But also the typical sweet cakes and more traditional foods, all of them richly spiced to compensate the Aesir's underdeveloped taste buds.

Really, it was a chaos all around. A chaos Loki had loved since his first visit, had jumped in like a swan into water and easily maneuvered in ever since.

But Amora had been his companions in many of this visits, so it was really no surprise that she found him.

"I heard you had an argument with your siblings", she started while he was busy trying to decide whether the red tunic that the Vanaheimr business man offered would look good against Anthony's tanned skin or if it was too colorful with its golden tresses and embroideries.

"Idun?", he asked without turning around. Not that it was necessary - he would have recognized his dear friend anywhere.

"Mm-mh", she made, then reached out and stroked her hand over the soft fabric. "That's not for you", she said, sure as only one can be who knew how much he loathed that color on himself, then turned her head a bit to glare at the guard following him around - Svend, not Sigyn, who had went to visit her sons - now waiting more or less patiently a few paces behind him. "Nor for Sigyn. Your pet?"

Swallowing Loki had to admit that he really seemed to have told her too much. "Anthony, yes", he confirmed, grateful beyond belief that not only were the guards sworn to secrecy - an oath one of the honorable Aesir had yet to break -, but also that the black-haired man was waiting a few feet behind them and Amora was speaking low enough he might not even hear.

"So, are you keeping him as your pet? You seemed undecided when last we spoke", she asked before gesturing for the Vane to show her a blue ribbon. "Nice", she commented and showed him the embroideries in darker blue on it, depicting people in various sexual acts.

"I also have flowers, if that would please the lady more?", the stand owner said, aware of the less obviously shown sexuality of the Aesir. "Or geometric figures? Maybe some animals?"

Loki looked up. "You have some in red, or gold?" He had wanted to tie Anthony's hair, hadn't he? Even distinctively remembered making such a promise to him once.

Immediately the man looked at him, and seeing the way he studied his frame and coloring yet refrained from mentioning that he couldn't wear either of these colors showed very easily that he had listened in on their conversation as much as possible. "I have several, yes", he said, then offered him a choice of ribbons ranging from dark red stitched with black to honey gold and brown. "Maybe this one?" He indicated a lovely red stripe, stitched with golden thread that showed a whole cascade of diamonds.

It looked beautiful, Loki had to admit, but he had set his eyes on another ribbon. It was red-brown like a chestnut, and had the same pattern stitched in, but in a deep vibrant red tone. "This one", he decided, then motioned to the tunic. "And this. Do you want the ribbon, Amora?"

"I could buy it myself, sugar", Amora reminded him that she was a rather successful sorceress herself, more than capable of paying for her own pleasures.

He conceded her point with a bow, before paying for his purchases and putting it away in the bag he carried slung over his shoulders, magic and cleverly applied science making its interior bigger than the outside.

They fell in a slow stroll along the market stands, each of them gazing at what was offered and interested them, occasionally stroking a hand along a strip of material, or holding a beautiful dagger or chain in hand. It was familiar, they had done this so often before, and while they gathered curious looks - they made a strange pair, Loki guessed, the well-known sorceress and her alien companion - it felt almost like being teenagers again, walking along the stalls for the first time without supervision and gazing with longing eyes at what was offered.

Really, it was no wonder these markets survived even though, technically, they weren't needed. Not when whatever was needed in daily life was fabricated by replicators, so that craftsmanship was superfluous.

Superfluous, maybe, but there was still a great demand for it, for no machine could create wonders, inspiration like a sentient mind, not to mention the wish of Aesir – beings of individuality as a few thousand years could not cure from them – to express themselves, to set themselves apart from the rest.

Something that only unique dresses, and vests, and jewelry could offer.

So it was no wonder that the whole market place was swarmed by Aesir, and tourists - Asgard’s markets were well-known beyond its borders - and Amora and Loki were just part of a crowd that was eager to see  _everything_ , and to buy.

Loki was grateful to his friend for being silent while they continued their wanderings, letting him have the time to sort his thoughts. The time to decide what he wanted to tell her, and what not.

"Do you remember what you told me when we spoke last?", he asked eventually.

Amora nodded. "That he is very dear to you, yes. As dear as Idun and I, or maybe even more."

That made Loki look up sharply at her. "What do you mean,  _more_ ?"

She smiled at him, a sad little smile that spoke more than any words could say. "You love me, Loki. You love Idun, and Baldur, and even your other friends. I don't doubt it. But still ... even all our help was not enough to pull you out of your hate, your ...  _suffering_ . Don't try to deny it - I have  _seen_ you suffer, even though you tried to hide it behind barbed words and guarded looks. Loki, you have not been yourself since that damn crowning day, _don't you dare deny it!_ But now, only a few days after this Iron Man, Anthony, joined you in your house ... you are so much calmer.  _Your magic_ is calmer."

"My ... magic?" He blinked, halting in his step. What did she mean with that?

Amora turned to him, the look on her face incredulous. "Are you trying to tell me that you haven't felt it? How it was restless as a storm, as if it was searching for an anchor? How it now flows as calmly as a great river in its ancient bed?"

He  _had_ . Hadn't he thought only yest… - no, the day before yesterday that Anthony felt to his magic like Thor ...  _Thor_ , who had, for all his stubbornness and scorn, been so often the anchor and focus of his spells, sometimes knowingly, often not.

An anchor he had  _lacked_ from the moment Odin exiled Thor from Asgard. But ... "Why would my magic use  _Anthony_ as an anchor?", he asked. "He's human, and I've only known him intimately for a week now."

Amora returned his question with one of her own: "Why do you need an anchor for your magic  _at all_ , when no Ás has need of one? More so, why do you need a  _living being_ to be your anchor?"

He had to admit, she had a point there. "I don’t know", he said.

And wasn't this something he had wanted to know for an  _eternity_ now? Why he, one of Asgard's greatest sorcerers - the  _greatest_ , maybe - needed for every spell that exceeded the bare basics an anchor to hold the construct, a focus to point it where it was meant to be? At least when he wished to  _not_ need the half a year he had worked on the spell to hide his identity from the humans.

So why should he be bewildered that Anthony had become an anchor for his magic?

Amora simply nodded. " _You_ don't”, she said pointedly. “But maybe someone else  _like_ you? A Jotun sorcerer?"

Loki jerked as if hit by his brother's electricity and turned on her with a dark scowl on his face.  _"I will not go to them and beg for their knowledge!"_ It was an argument they had had often before, but Loki had thought he had made his point clear: had his people wanted him they would not have left him where Odin could steal, or more likely  _kill_ him.

Not to mention that he didn't want to flaunt his true heritage around - so far only a very few trusted people knew of it, and while the guard might know - Svend had been around a long time now, and Sigyn obviously trusted him with Loki's safety in a place as crowded as the market place - the customers certainly didn't have to be made aware of it.

In the face of his anger Amora changed the subject, though not by much. "You will go to speak to Byleistr today?"

Trying to reign his temper in Loki nodded. "I have left Anthony alone twice now. I don't want to do so again until he is much improved."

Seeing his point Amora nodded in agreement, then continued, her voice suddenly subdued though still loud enough that she would not appear to be conspiring: "What you asked me about ..."

Loki found himself getting rigid. "You said they found something?" Could it be? Could it be that he was that near to fulfilling his promise?

Amora hesitated for a moment while a family passed them very close by, the children running happily between the stalls while the fathers tried to keep track of them and their mother checked some of the goods of the telescope-maker's stall. When they went past her she looked up and nodded respectfully to Amora, but luckily didn't insist on speaking with her.

"That's Theia, our new teacher for advanced studies", Amora explained, then continued before he could burst from anticipation: "When they send the message it was coded, but Skruge still thought someone might be able to intercept it so he couldn't tell me everything. From what I understand, they  _have_ made contact" Loki found himself brimming with excitement - _this was what he had waited for five years!_ Contact with the survivors of the - "but I don't know whether with one, or several, or how many of them live there. I guess it's understandable that they don't want to risk anyone knowing about them, and possible sell them out to the Titan."

Loki nodded. Oh yes, he could understand. Oh  _how good_ he understood them! But still ... he had promised  _her_ he would find them, and help them, and give them a new life, a new place within the nine realms and under the protection of Yggdrasil’s contract. And now he was finally,  _finally_ near to his goal.

Yeah, well, he just needed to kill Thanos first.

A cold shiver ran down his spine, and while he knew that he had done what he could - warned the Ljósálfar and Svartálfar and Niflungar, Muspelheimar, Vanaheimar and Jotunheimar, and even Helheim's deadly warriors, not to mention Asgard whose warriors were even now training for war while its scientists and constructors worked on interstellar warships and weapons the likes of which the nine realms had not seen for many a thousand years now, not since the Compact of Yggdrasil.

"Do you ... do you have the message?", he asked, breathless.

Amora nodded. "Of course", she said, then reached into the inside pocket of her jacket and offered him a small blue message-stone. "I recorded the part you're interested in", she explained, and Loki pulled a face. He loved his friend,  _deeply_ , and he liked her boyfriend and hopefully soon-to-be-husband, but he  _really_ didn't need to hear everything the both of them talked about - not after he had accidentally stumbled in on her listening to such a message and heard him waxing poetry about her beauty before getting downright dirty in his description of what he would like to do with her as soon as he saw her again. No, he  _really_ didn't need a repeat of that.

Laughing about his discomfort Amora proved how good a friend she was by knocking on his arm. “It was your own fault, Lo. Why ever did you listen in on my private messages?” When he just groaned she snickered even louder.

Her laugher was cut short by a sudden squeal of delight when she spotted a stand to the side. “Here it is!”, she said, excited. “Emil í a told me he would be here, but I wanted to go see it myself.”

The stand owner was obviously from Muspelheimar - the dark red tone of his skin and his honey-yellow eyes would have betrayed him were not the double-set of horns on his forehead and temples as well as the thick tail growing from his backside unmistakable signs.

But him being a fire weaver made Loki do a double-take when he saw what the man offered: Lingerie.

Lingerie. On  _Asgard_ .

That was something Loki had to swallow first.

It wasn’t that Asgard was prudish - and compared to Ljósálfarheimr they were downright frank - but there were some lines that simply shouldn’t be crossed. Speaking of and showing sex too obvious was one of them.

Clothes that weren’t offering any protection was another.

Still, what the man offered was clothing meant only for the bed chamber, and though he stood aside from the other stalls as if none of them wished to have anything to do with him and there were no customers around Loki didn't doubt he made good money, somewhere hidden away from the neighbor's gazes.

Amora, known as a half-álf and very eccentric sorceress, hadn't ever cared to live by the same standards as the rest of them and with Heimdall as her brother no-one would dare rail against her. As long as she wasn’t stepping too hard on too many feet.

As for Loki himself ... well, he wore a disguise, and he was sure Svend would find a way to make himself seem as if he had nothing to do with the mad sorceress and her unacceptable companion.

Slowly Loki followed his friend who was already excitedly looking at the goods and waving impatiently for him - while he had no intention to buy anything for Anthony there might be some clothing for his female form. It paid off to always keep an eye open for appealing clothes.

He had learnt that he had a natural talent for shape changing at a very young age, and there had even been a time when he thought that maybe Odin got it wrong when he forced a boy's body on him to hide his Jotun being, seeing as his preferences and abilities were more usual for girls.

This hope had lasted all of two days - the amount of time it took him to get over his nerves and pick up a book about Jotnar that told him in no uncertain terms that there were no Jotun females.

Nor  _males_ , either.

He was meant to be both, from the start, but doomed to a male shape by the magic hiding his true identity.

After that he had formed a female shape for himself - well, several to be exact, but there was one shape in particular that he took most often. It was this shape that he had been using to hide among the girls for studying, and inevitably he had taken up some female behaviors: like how he listened to gossip, and took care of his appearance - clothes and hair and jewels. It took shape in the way he thought - yes he had had a different way of thinking than his brothers from the start, but girls were scientists, and that meant to be sneaky in a way not even he had ever considered before, but trying to win against them in Hneftafal he had to embrace their way of thinking.

It also meant that he had taken to - secretly - build up a wardrobe for when he had to charm himself into a warrior's bed to rob him off his secrets. Or  _her_ bed - Loki had found early that he had no preferences, though that was probably less of a consequence of his hermaphrodism but caused by the open view of Asgard and even more so Vanaheimr, where his mother was from and which they kept visiting often enough during their childhood.

And the stall proved to be perfect for this -- there was everything from see-through dresses, to fine underwear, to stockings and shoes. Lace and leather, but also other materials that he had never before seen used in such a way. There were fine skirts made from a cloth he knew was normally used for theater costumes. Gloves made of Sirvlin, a mist-like material known for its sturdiness that only the Niflungar knew how to weave. Another pair that shimmered metallic in the sun - fetish wear at its finest.

Still, what caught his eye first was a beautiful black pair of trousers - if one could call it such, seeing as it sported more holes than an apple after a worm had had its way with it. But it was easy to imagine the picture the wearer of this would make - easy to imagine what  _Anthony_ would look like in this. Black sturdy and shiny material riding low on his hips, sitting tightly around his crotch and ass - showing off everything he had while simultaneously concealing it - and then leading down, encompassing his thighs but also revealing spots of his honey-colored skin and just fleeting images of the returning muscles along the legs, making him even more alluring than he already was.

Swallowing Loki reminded himself that he couldn't ever force his sweet pet in this, not if he wanted for him to feel treasured instead of like a bed-slave. And there was something else he could buy, a beautiful emerald colored thong-and-bra-set that would have his eyes shine, and it was the exact same green tone as the high sandals he already owned, and together with a few jewels and maybe one or two knife sheets - depending on the person he wanted to seduce - he would be irresistible.

Slowly he reached out and forced his fingers to brush over the satin-like material, almost groaning when the slippery fibers brushed over his skin and set it alight with sensation. It felt like water, cool and smooth, yet it also felt like fire and lightning, zapping his nerves attuned to magic.

Perplexed he jerked away, looking down at the fabric that lay there so innocently. This was no simple garment – this was  _true art_ , even beside the clever cut and daring color selection.

To make sure that a garment would fit every customer who might purchase it most of the merchants on the market had lain spells in their cloths, making them fit whoever would try them on. But what sounded easy and helpful in theory had a great drawback – it dulled the colors, made the fabric brittle and rough. The easiest way to minimize the damage done was to fit this spell to the cloth's  _first_ wearer only, but even this could be seen and felt by a skilled sorcerer.

Not so here. Not even Loki, whose eyes were trained for it – he was a prince of Asgard, he had never worn clothes from a replicator – had seen the telltale signs of magic on the fiber, which spoke of a very skilled spellcaster, maybe the same who had sewn this cloths in the first place.

So really, in the face of this much skill, who would blame Loki for buying the set and then taking the pair of trousers as well?

  
  


  
  


 


	60. Tony Stark

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To show you that I'm not going into hiding again so soon - here is the next chapter.  
> You might remember - sometime 2 months ago I promised a new Tony-chapter? Because I left him off with a tiny little cliffhanger? Yes, that scene. That's were we're going to continue in this chapter.
> 
> Hope you like.  
> (Also - yes, I know, the last chapter was very complicated. The rest is not. I think)
> 
> And, again, many thanks to [evilwitch66](http://archiveofourown.org/users/evilwitch66) for being a fantastic beta-reader. Really, I don't deserve you.

_Scene from chapter 56:_

_Jean rolled his eyes good-naturedly, but followed her advice and lead Tony up to the kitchen where he actually showed Tony how to prepare cheeseburgers, complete with how to make the meatballs from scratch. He even let him fry them and then put on the buns instead of just having him cut salad and tomatoes - a task he joined in for once._

_It took them probably longer than Jean would have needed alone, but he was very patient with Tony, so he almost felt bad for sitting down at the table with the two of them, a cheeseburger on his plate before him, and asking: "If I wanted to leave now, what would you do?"_

_..._

  
  


_"If I wanted to leave now, what would you do?"_

He hadn’t really wanted to ask that. Hadn’t really  _intended_ to ask it. 

Wasn’t sure he was prepared for the answer, or ... the consequences, whatever they might be.

Still ... the words were out now, hanging in the room, seemingly echoing on their own, and by the way both Mary and Jean had frozen neither had expected him to ask them for his freedom.

Neither of them had probably expected to ever be in a situation where they were the ones that had to make this decision - this choice between keeping Tony prisoner, or letting him go. Between being good people - and  _Louis’_ people.

It was Jean who eventually answered, his face turned to Tony but his straying eyes betraying that he really,  _truly_ did not want to do this. "We can't let you go." He licked his lips, but did not turn his head away; instead he faced Tony fully, his eyes seeking Tony’s, and while there was a pleading tone in his voice, an earnestness in his eyes that begged him to understand, there was no doubt that he would do what he thought was right.

"Anthony ...  _Tony_ ." The sound of his name - his nickname, the name his friends and torturers had used both - made him pay close attention, told him that  _this_ time, at least, Jean was acknowledging who he was outside of this,  _Louis'_ , world.

"Tony. You are ... you are a  _hero_ . I know that. I ... I've been out there and watched you fight off threats - villains - I wouldn't dare face myself, not even when I, too, was wearing such an armour. I'm just not hero-material. But," he took a deep breath, briefly closing his eyes. "Tony, I admire you, but I cannot let you go. Not despite of that, but  _because_ of it. Because I know that Lo- that the boss won't hurt you. That he wants to  _help you heal_ . Wants to keep you safe from the ones out there who captured you and kept you locked up. And because ... Tony, since I've been falling in with Louis I've faced more paparazzi than I ever wished to see  _in my whole life_ . And yes, I know that you're used to it much more than I'll ever be, but I'm just the cook of a person who made his money very, very quietly. You, on the other hand - you are _Tony Stark._ They get a hint of where you are, and ... I don’t want you to have to face that as long as you aren’t ready for it."

Tony knew all that.

_Of course_ he knew it - in the first weeks of his imprisonment he had hoped that his degree of familiarity  would get the attention of a reporter and help him escape. Or that other people might recognize him and help him in exchange for a boon or a reward, something he would have been just too happy to give.

Later, he had feared the press because he didn't want to have a picture of his pathetic self to be printed in the newspapers. The picture of how he had looked after his return from Afghanistan being distributed in every possible paper had been bad enough - there were still days when he questioned whether he had held this fateful press conference so fast after his escape to get it over with before the courage left him, or because he wanted to make sure they had something other to print on their title pages instead of speculating about what he had endured (not that it had worked).

_And now?_ Now only the  _thought_ of  _ever again_ having to face a reporter was enough to make his stomach churn and his insides try to escape him.

Still ... "So you're telling me that being a  _prisoner_ is better for me than being  _free_ ?" Tony made sure to load his voice with as much sarcasm as he felt - he might fear the press, fear what lay ahead of him, but there was still a spark of Tony Stark in him, and Tony Stark  _never_ hid,  _never_ showed a weakness. Not that it was hard to cover up his fear with irritation - beyond even what he thought, there was also the fact that he had come to think of Jean and Mary as his friends, and now they betrayed him. Showed him that his trust had been misplaced. 

The last person who betrayed him had been Obadiah Stane, and the anger over this treachery still brought an edge to his voice that would tell everyone who knew him that he should better not be crossed in this.

But Jean just held his gaze. "At the moment, yes", he agreed, but continued before Tony could say anything to this outrageous statement: "You’re also not a prisoner, for the boss. And I don’t think he intends to keep you locked up for the rest of your life.”

Tony blinked, not sure what he should think about this last sentence -  _Louis didn’t want to keep him locked up?_ Louis, the man who brought  _possessiveness_ and  _obsession_ to a very new level?

It was Mary, having been quiet during Jean’s little speech, who then put her hand on his arm - slowly, carefully, trying not to turn his bewilderment in anger once more. "Anthony. We can't - no, we  _won't_ let you go, but ... for what it is worth, you can always come to us. I know that you probably won't believe us, not after this right now, but ... should Louis hurt you, or just ... well, not understand you, again. You can always come to us. We will help you."

Tony stared at them. At Mary, so motherly with her round face and loose blouse, her worry showing in her kind eyes, but still firm in her decision to stay to Louis and his choice. And Jean, rumpled clothes and skittish eyes, yet just as strongly believing in his boss. He knew that his anger was justified, even though it was misdirected. Yes, he had begun to trust them, to see them as friends, and now they refused him the right to be free.

But then he had  _already known_ what they would say, hadn't he? He had known that there was a snowball's chance in hell that they would disobey -  _betray_ \- Louis for him. There was a reason he had n ’t really wanted to ask that question.

And they had offered to help him.  _Against_ Louis even, should he need it.

And, well, there was also the fact that Tony hadn't taken any one of the chances he had had to escape.

Open doors.

Unguarded telephones.

The soldering iron only yesterday.

And he still didn't know why he hadn't made use of any of them.

They ate silently for a few minutes, before Jean, obviously hoping to change the topic and lift the mood, asked: "What do you want to do after lunch?"

Tony blinked - did he really think he was so shallow, his anger so short-lived that he had already forgotten it? A part of him wanted to sulk as he was wont to do, or yell, or ... but then gave in. He couldn't really blame them. Not as long as he wasn't sure whether or not he would actually leave the house should they offer it to him ...

Hastily he suppressed that thought and asked: "What do you mean, 'what do I want to do'?" Because, really, it wasn’t as if he had anything to say here, was it?

Jean shrugged, relaxing a bit now that Tony had accepted his peace offer (had he?). "Well, Lo said you might like to get some sleep? Or ... well, I don't know when Sigyn's coming back so going into the garage is out, but ... do you want to help me or Mary? Or go reading? Or ... well, you could also go watch TV or something. As long as you're staying in the house you can do pretty much anything."

It certainly sounded like that. But somehow the fact that Jean listed him this many options, that he didn't  _expect_ him to do anything specific made him become aware of the fact that he had no ... no  _purpose_ in this household. 

Mary was the housekeeper and the mother-hen of the house, Jean the cook and general Jack-of-all-trades. Sigyn was chauffeur, and bodyguard, and probably also a memento of Asgard for Louis, whatever that meant for the man. Even  _Dr. Lee_ had a purpose, and he wasn't even really a member of the household.

And Tony? He was Louis' pet. The one he stroked, and bought things for, and taught tricks to in the gym.

The one he allowed to play in the workshop.

But that was the point, wasn't it? Yes, Louis had  _allowed_ him this, but he had  _chosen_ his project  _himself_ , hadn't he? He had given  _himself_ purpose, as he had done all his life - first with trying to impress his father, then the weapons for Stark Industries, now Iron Man and his attempt to leave the world a better place.

So why was he feeling so insecure suddenly? Because he wasn't allowed into the workshop at the moment?

Or because his routine had been, as Louis had pointed out, interrupted once too often?

He didn't want to be like this. Didn't want to feel helpless without another showing him a way, giving him a goal. He had not spent all his life forging new ways to do things - ways neither his teachers, or professors, or even _Howard Stark_ had thought of - just to let this experience rip it from him.

Louis had ... he had done so much to help him heal. Tony was still not sure  _why_ he had done that - to turn him into a good pet? Make him pliant and willing? Or maybe honestly for Tony - but he  _had_ helped him, and even within those few days the small spark that had remained of Tony Stark, made up of nothing but pride and stubbornness and  _simply never ever giving up_ , had flared to life again, not as hot and bright as it had been once, and would get again if Tony had anything to say about, but it was there again. And it was enough, enough for him to decide that he would not let his life waste away like this.

"I'll help you", he decided - well, okay, that was not so much Tony Stark, but ... small steps, yes? And besides, watching tv was only fun when someone was there watching with you anyway.

Jean smiled. "Okay then. I guess you don't have any experience tidying?" He grinned at Tony's disgusted face and took a bite out of his cheeseburger, and oh, yeah, there was that.

Eating.

Looking down at his own cheeseburger Tony took him in his hands - he wasn’t really hot enough anymore, but then  _he_ had insisted on talking this through before the meal so he couldn't very well complain, now could he? Not to mention that he had eaten them cold often enough before, and while the  fries Rhodey so often ordered at the side were disgusting once they had cooled out a burger still tasted delicious the next day.

He ate silently, listening to Mary and Jean making plans - both for later this day, but also for Christmas. It was the first time he heard of that, and startled he looked up when he heard ... "Louis has a daughter?"

Both of them startled out of their argument whether or not to make bûche de Noël, something that seemed to have been traditional to Mary's mother. By the way Jean had crossed his arms over his chest this seemed to be a recurring argument, and one he was probably already used to loose.

"Well, yes", Jean said eventually, frowning slightly.

Mary explained in more detail. "Louis has four children - two sons, two daughters. Though they haven't grown up celebrating Christmas, and really, that Jinaki is coming is mostly because she likes the cookies."

That seemed to be a joke between them for Jean grinned as well, his lips twitching involuntarily. "Well, we certainly won't have any left over for New Year's Eve", he added.

Not fully comprehending why they were so amused by this Tony looked at them questioningly, but Mary just waved him off. "You have to see it yourself", she said, smiling.

Jean pushed his dish away and said: "I'm full. Really, I've got no idea how you manage to eat more than two of these things, Anthony!"

Tony looked down at his own plate and the ... well,  _third_ burger that lay there. He hadn't even noticed that he had taken another of the delicious buns from the plate Jean had put in the middle of the table after he had finished his first two.

Feeling blood rise up into his cheeks he still refused to back down or even acknowledge his embarrassment and instead looked Jean squarely into the face. "They are the best I've ever eaten", he answered simply.

And enjoyed himself immensely when it was now  _Jean's_ turn to have the blood rise in his cheeks. "Thank you", he said, ducking his face - genius when it came to cooking, show-off, yes, but obviously not fully used to receiving his due, it seemed. Still, he tried to cover it up: "So, are you helping me then? Cleaning dishes, and dusting and hoovering the living room?"

Tony really needed to invent a machine for them. Dusting? Hoovering?

Really, he hoped that at least  _cleaning dishes_ was no subtle way of saying the dishwasher was broken.

  
  


  
  


  
  


  
  


  
  


  
  


 


	61. Family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Exactly as advertised - Loki spending some time with his family

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This would have come out earlier today, if I hadn't gotten a nasty case of spring cleaning ... yeah, well, who cares?
> 
> As always, many thanks to [evilwitch66](http://archiveofourown.org/users/evilwitch66) for being such a wonderful beta.

The unplanned, but certainly not unwanted meeting with both Amora and his siblings had been a sharp reminder that Loki had more family in Asgard. Family he loved but hadn't seen for quite a while now; between his avoidance of Asgard, and the duties forced upon him whenever he had to find his way here after all, he hadn't spent much time with them for almost three years now. And even though that was nothing for beings as long lived as them, it always pained Loki to feel so estranged from even one of his kids.

Suppressing his urge to turn around and also seek out Nari and Vali he just curled his hands into fists - they were _not_ his sons, neither officially nor by upbringing, the circumstances of their conception aside. At most he could think himself their mad uncle considering how close he and Sigyn were. Still, it took effort to just walk on, down to the stables, where he assumed his son would be found this time of day.

The sun was still high in the sky, but very obviously making for the far end of the horizon, a clear sign that the day was nearing its end. Not that it would leave Asgard in darkness - the thousands of stars shining through the artificial atmosphere of the station, not to mention the shimmering of Asgard itself, would never allow for that.

But it still left him with an unsettling distorted feeling - he had promised Anthony to be back not long after lunch, or at least send Sigyn to him - and looking into the sky and see that the sun had passed its zenith so obviously already ... no matter how much he told himself that this was only because of the time difference between the realms it left him with the feeling that he should return, that something bad would happen otherwise.

Suppressing the feeling sternly he deliberately took notice of his surroundings, the bustling of horses being returned from the rides their owners had taken with them, of stable boys taking hold of them and caring for them where the rider wasn't willing to provide that care themselves. A dog ran through the chaos, startling a few horses – all of them high spirited imports of Ljósálfarheimr. No decent Asgardian war beast would react that way, but some of the higher up dandies liked their more elegant movement, and their fire.

Of course, none of them were suited for war; there was a reason they were called _pets_ on the streets. They certainly needed too much pampering to be called _horses_.

But neither the horses nor the stable boys were what Loki was interested in. No, what captured his eyes were the eight-legged stallion throwing his proud head in the air, whickering something that might be a laugh, and the young man standing next to him, grinning and shoving his hand through his long black hair in a gesture of half-embarrassment.

They were standing on the far side of the bailey, where the stables ended and the path to the fields began. At this time of the day there were only a few who hurried past them, and so they seemed to be deep in their own world, their bodies intimately angled towards each other, their heads put together in conversation.

Slowly Loki made his way over to them, barely taking care not to run into any of the other occupants of the courtyard. He hadn't seen his son for too long, what with himself staying on Midgard for far too much time, and Sleipnir traveling the nine realms.

It was the stallion who saw him first, throwing his head around and snorting in welcome, his mane flying back in a display of cockiness that only the true king of the meadows could manage. As if called, the wind blew through the long black strands, making them fly like a sail. Life came into his powerful body, until now still as the statue of a horse god, let the muscles play under the velvety soft coat But it was not only that - there was more to him than a stallion's will to impress. In his dark eyes shone an intelligence found only in the race native to Muspelheimar; an intelligence that, while not equal to an Aesir's in form, still qualified them as sentient beings.

Sometimes, when Loki was particularly frustrated by the Aesir's pigheadedness, he even thought them the superior race.

Still ... they _were_ horses, their thoughts as strange to most sentient beings as dragon's were - most noticeable in that they _actually allowed_ other beings on their back, carrying them to where they wished. Not that Loki would recommend trying to climb them against their will - he still remembered the colorful bruises Thor had sported from that one time when he had attempted to ride him, and Svaldivari had let him get off cheaply because he was Loki's brother and Odin's son.

Gently he reached out, stroked the back of the horse's nose. "Greetings, love", he said and smiled when the stallion snorted and pushed back against his hand. Something in his actions was picked up and translated by the Allspeak as "Greetings, troublemaker/alwaysintrouble/friend/motherofmyson" and he smiled at the response.

"I'm not _that_ bad", he protested, though the greeting was familiar and would be dearly missed should it ever change.

Both the horse and the young man snorted in disbelieve at his fake-protest, and the latter stepped forward at last so Loki could pull him into a tight hug. It could have been ungainly, what with Loki - who was one of the tallest on Asgard - being the smaller of them, even if by just a few centimeters, but it wasn't. The man had grown so tall so fast, and might even grow a bit more to resemble his father.

"Hello, mother", Sleipnir teased, and Loki found himself grinning at the greeting, happy to see his son again and relieved that there was none of the awkwardness one might expect after having been separated for so long a time.

"Hello, my son", he said and pressed his lips to his son's forehead before taking a step back and mustering him. "You look good", he observed. "Happy."

And he did. His long black hair - so like his father's, unruly as not even Loki's own was - curled slightly, wet from sweat and maybe a bath, held back only by a loosely bound strip of cloth. His eyes - Loki's green Aesir eyes - shone with inner light and confidence, his skin tanned a brown he couldn't have obtained anywhere but on Asgard or Muspelheimar considering his heritage, and not even the Asgardian tunic could hide the fact that he had gotten used to wearing much less formal and stiffening clothes than were common on Asgard. But he still looked good in them, standing tall and proud, a picture of relaxed confidence and happiness that Loki so often struggled to achieve.

Grinning Loki asked: "Who are they?"

Sleipnir gave an exasperated sigh. "As I've told father already, there is no-one in my life. Can't I just be happy with my friends? You know, _somewhere without annoying and nosy parents_?"

Svaldivari snorted and Loki's grin just broadened. "Sure you can", he agreed amused. "And which one of your friends in particular should I keep an eye on?"

Svaldivari whickered. "Maybe the one with the blond mane and the fast legs? She has a wicked nature to suit you, sonofmytroublemakerwife, and she will bear you strong foals."

Groaning Sleipnir hid his face in his hands. "Father, please! We aren't thinking of marriage at the moment, not to mention children. And Mother - Let Eonwyn be! I've seen you act like the grand-mother of all mother-hens about Akira, and I've been wondering how Fenrir kept his boyfriend from running away for ages. Really, I don't have to experience that myself just 'cause you don't have a love life worth mentioning, mother."

And that was just mean. Loki had a wonderful love life, thank you. He had Svaldivari and Sigyn for his heart, and every beautiful stranger his eyes fell on for his libido. Or Jean, should he be more in the mood for angry possessive sex.

Not to mention Anthony ...

Swiping this thought away he focused on what else his son had said. "I have never done anything to Akira", he told Sleipnir, frowning. And no, there was no pout in his voice.

His son seemed to think otherwise. "You're acting childish, Mum. You know as well as I that you're scaring people with your in-full-battle-regalia-and-shining-eyes-role, and that you wanted to scare Akira away when you visited them like this."

Well, he wasn't wrong, but then Loki hadn't done it just for fun, had he? Though, to be perfectly honest, that had been part of it, too. "I'm far from the worst a son-in-law of mine has to face, and had the boy run away he wouldn't have been able to stand up against the dangers of the universe." Or only his grandfather, had Odin ever taken an interest in his grandchild's lover.

Sleipnir rolled his eyes. "He's a vampire, Loki. A _human_ vampire, okay, but - almost indestructible even for Aesir strength? Immune to most diseases? Faster than sound? Does that ring a bell?"

Mpf. Yes, it did - Loki was well aware of the advantages a vampire had. And even more so, that Akira actually loved Fen as much as his son loved the once-human, but ... was it so bad that he wanted to protect his little son?

Svaldivari snorted again, then butted him into the chest with his head. "You raised your children to run free and lead their own herd. And every herd has a lead mare." Stretching his head upwards he curled his upper lip.

Loki found himself snickering. Maybe his friend was right - maybe Sleipnir was really old enough to lead a life of his own, and Loki was just overprotective.

Still ... "I so really want to be there when you tell the girl that she's going to be your leading mare."

Sleipnir snorted and shoved him into the side, while Svaldivari shook his head in lack of understanding - of course, for him Sleipnir's exasperation must seem incomprehensible.

Smiling slightly about their antics Loki laid an arm around his son. "I have not seen you for far too long, my son. I would ... I wouldn't want to spend our time together in argument." Looking into the eyes of the man who seemed to have been his boy only yesterday, and was now wandering through the nine realms alone, he continued: "Tell me of the woman who has captured your heart, then." A stable boy passing by too near, sketching a bow for them as good as possible while leading a temperamental stallion before hurrying on, had him add: "Though maybe not here, exactly. What do you think about going to the spring meadow?"

And Sleipnir's smile was like the sun coming out. Before Loki could say anything further he had slung his arms around Loki's neck, hugging him tightly - betraying his age as neither his body nor his way to give himself did anymore. "Thank you" he whispered, and Loki felt his heart melt.

Even if he wanted to keep his boy for himself, wanted to keep him safe from heartbreak and betrayal - he didn't want to keep him from experiencing love as Loki had found with Angrboða. Nor could he - the way he smiled, the way he talked about his adventures and his friends, the way he talked about Eonwyn and her golden flying hair, her green eyes, her laugh ... it showed so very visible that Loki's little boy had grown up.

And he had grown into a man Loki could only be proud of. A man who was as compassionate as his father, with his mother's intelligence and the best of their looks. It was so very easy to see how Eonwyn had fallen in love with him, and sitting there at the meadow, Loki leaning against Svaldivari’s flank while Sleipnir animatedly talked about his life, Loki felt humbled by the thought that this man was partly him, that he had had a hand in raising him.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I played with mythology a bit again. Really, Loki letting his son being ridden by his father? A father he didn't actually like?
> 
> Next chapter will be back to Tony


	62. An intruder

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some information about Loki's kids. Dusting. An unwelcome surprise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...
> 
> Sorry for the long wait. I've had some problems with the next chapter. Seems they're right when they say that you don't learn anything anymore in school - not even how to best create a believable (and mostly workable) fantasy world situated on a ringed ice planet somewhere in another galaxy ... well, geography and astronomy aren't what they once were, too ^^
> 
> The following chapter is actually one I forgot I hadn't uploaded already, but maybe it's better I haven't left you with it for two months ...
> 
> The good news: I'm definetly going to upload 2 chappys per week for the next 3 weeks (because they are already finished and corrected).
> 
> Many thanks again to my beta [evilwitch66](http://archiveofourown.org/users/evilwitch66), because WOW, she betead the first three chappys I threw at her within 24 hours.

Cleaning with Jean turned out to be much more enjoyable than Tony could ever have anticipated. For one, because Jean was talking almost non-stop, quipping about his life and the people in it and not expecting Tony to answer to _anything_ , though he looked pleased whenever he managed to get a laugh out of him.

And where Tony was once almost incapable of being part of a conversation without talking about himself most of the time - he was a genius, what could other people tell him that he didn't know already and that was still interesting? - he was now more than happy to listen silently. It gave him a chance to shut his own brain up which was asking, _demanding_ to know why he wasn't trying to escape. He really didn't want to go there. No, really not.

And it wasn't as if he was bored by what Jean was talking about. Not when he talked of the company Louis owned - something with marketing? Helping other people sell their things? - and the people who worked for him and had to put up with his unique way of doing things. Especially his assistant who sounded like he had a life similar to Pepper, minus the living-in-part or the sleeping with the boss part (Jean began laughing for a full minute when Tony mentioned that, and then grinned and said that yes, Mike was definitively too smart to sleep with _this_ boss)

No, really, he wasn't bored _at all_. Least of all _now_ , when Jean told him of Louis' kids while cleaning the windows: "... yeah, and there I was, telling that boy that harps and drums and synthesizer don't go together - I mean, what would _you_ have said? That sounds like trying to recreate the sound of a dentist's drills! Anyway, Fenrir just smiles, and then Lo comes in and they vanish out into the garden. Yeah, and I thought he had forgotten, but when he came over the next time - dunno, three months or so later? - well, he brings this CD with him. He's a musician, not so famous in America but he makes good money over in Japan - he lives there, you see; looks like a Japanese, too. So he decided to take my words as a challenge and made his band record an album full of impossible music. And he made a fucking load of money with that! Fucking fucker, I tell you. He's like his father, always making money from shit, don't know how they do it."

Grumbling Jean attacked a more persistent stain on the glass in front of him.

Tony grinned to himself - to him it sounded like a very good retaliation, and also as if Jean wasn't half as annoyed as he tried to sound. Returning to his own task, dusting off the sideboard with the CD-stash and the DVDs, he asked: "So, a son who is a musician, and a daughter who works as a kind of cop. And the rest?"

Jean shrugged his shoulders. "Met Sleipnir - that's the other son - only once. He's not living on earth, you see, and he's ... well, he's different. I mean, when you meet him you know he's been raised by Lok-Louis, but ... he has a very different view of how life is or should be than the others. More martial, if you understand what I mean. Well, you probably do, you know Thor and all. So, he's nice and everything, but he's also a bit more ruthless than most humans. Anyway, he's touring the universe anyway, so it's unlikely that you're going to meet him."

"And Jinaki? The one that's going to come over for Christmas?", because she was the one Tony had the most interest in, seeing as he would meet her in a few day's time.

And wasn't it remarkable that he felt no fear, no nervousness about meeting her? Well, he _did_ feel nervous, but only a bit, not even a fraction as much as when he thought of meeting a reporter, or his friends, or, well, anyone really.

Because she was Louis', presumably. Knew him, knew how he thought. Because there was a part of him that expected people that were Louis' - people that Louis allowed to get to meet him - to be safe. Wouldn't think less of him because he knelt on command and wore a collar and was afraid of ever leaving this place again ...

"Jinaki? Oh, well, you know, that's not her real name. Not sure from where she's originally - well, originally she's from Asgard, of course, but where Louis left her to be raised ... though I guess it's somewhere in Africa, from her looks at least. Anyway, she's a manager now, or something like that - has a very high position in some big company or something, and she's often traveling all over the world. Er ... where was I? Ah, yes. See, her name's because she had to fit in, like Fenrir's Hinata in Japan, and Hel goes by Sharon, but her real name's Jormundgarrrhh ... Jormunga ... something like that. And don't ask me why Loki thought that would be a fitting name for a girl, or anyone, really. Normally he has better taste in something like this. I just blame it on the mother."

"Her mother?" There was an odd feeling in his chest, like something clenching down on him, pressing on his heart. Why was he feeling that way at the thought of Louis caring for someone else? He had no problem with the kids, or Jean and Sigyn!

Luckily Jean wasn't aware of his reaction or Tony would have died in shame, even more so when he continued: "Yeah ... well, she's dead, so I wouldn't recommend you bring her up. She was neither Aesir nor Frostgiant but from a different race, one with a much shorter lifespan, and from what Sigyn was willing to divulge she died a natural death, but ... can't imagine what it had to be like, watching her grow old and die while you stay young and ... well, have children which may age at her rate and die themselves before you even came to terms with her death ..."

For a moment they were both silent, and Tony couldn't help but ponder this: Louis had raised his kids alone, without a mother, and that after he had just lost his lover ... and now he still looked twenty-something. Maybe thirty-isch when he was tired, or worn out. Which brought to mind ... "How old is he? And his kids? Actually - why are his kids on _earth_? I thought that's were Odin casts out his exiles." And kids couldn't have done something to cause this kind of punishment, certainly. Not when he thought about what Thor had to do in order to get cast out.

Jean thought for a moment before he answered. "I believe him to be a bit older than two-thousand years, but I'm not sure. It's a bit complicated, what with him being a different race than the Aesir and no-one knowing how old he was when his foster family took him in ... and the different calendar of Asgard. Not sure about it, but I guess they wouldn't measure their time like ours, that their planet needs more time to run around their sun or something. And there seems to be a time-distortion between the realms as well and ... well, actually I'm also not so interested in it. Maybe you can ask him yourself, you may even understand what he's telling you."

Smirking he looked over to Tony who found himself grinning back. But then he _was_ a genius, wasn't he? And he had once become an expert in wormholes over night, after all.

Jean threw his cloth away, finally happy with the state the window was in, and shoved something out of his way before he went over to get the vacuum cleaner. Over the - surprisingly low - noise of the machine he continued, now in a much more serious voice: "Not so sure how old the kids are - and let me tell you, they aren't really kids, they are my age or older, look-wise I mean, except Fenrir - but ... five-hundred? At least Sleipnir, I guess, the others are younger, though probably not so much younger."

Five-hundred ... when he compared that to how old Louis was, and looked, that still sounded ... "He was very young, then, when he got kids", he found himself remarking. The dust cloth was crunched between his fingers, and he almost absentmindedly pulled the DVD he was cleaning out of the rack when he turned around.

Jean shrugged his shoulders, which looked awkward since he was still pushing the vacuum cleaner. "Yeah? Never thought about it, but ... you're probably right, yeah. Must have been a small scandal up in the golden kingdom, that's for sure."

"That the reason he brought them to earth?"

"Maybe." Jean licked his lips, then looked over to Tony and just pulled a grimace. "I really don't know, neither of them talks about it that much. But I got that their mother was really inappropriate, and ... I did tell you that they have a second form? Or a first form, really, Hel once made a remark that Loki was the one who’se given them their human form, so they can better fit in. And while I've never seen her form I've seen Fenrir's and Jinaki's, and let me tell you, a gigantic wolf with teeth as long as your forearm or a dragon that's capable of calling clouds and snow are not so easily fitting in."

"So they threw them out." Something about Jean's words was bothering Tony. What had he called Louis ...?

But Jean continued before he could pursue this thought further. "Yeah. At least I guess they did. Well, and with earth the least advanced realm - the one with the least chance of finding out about them - Louis brought them here and found them foster parents and so they are here now."

"Foster parents?" That was the first time Tony heard of this.

"Didn't I mention it?" Jean looked up in surprise - only to curse the next moment when his inattention had caused the cleaner to catch on his fallen ragcloth. "Damned thing!"

Tony chuckled, though he tried to hide it. "I guess I _do_ have to make you a new cleaner after all", he decided.

"Well, can't be worse than this thing", Jean grumbled, kicking after the red body of the machine.

It was this exact moment that something bumped into the window.

Startled Tony looked up, expecting ... _nothing_ , really; maybe a bird who hadn't managed to change the direction in time, or a tree branch rapping against the glass, but certainly not what he got: there was an odd, humanlike shape in front of the window, not expected but certainly not unfamiliar.

It looked ethereal, green but almost fully translucent as far as he could see through the - freshly scrubbed - window glass, too rangy to be human but not fully different. Maybe as tall as a human, but it was hard to judge from the way it's contours were blurring, sometimes making it look two meters high and clothed in leaves, sometimes leaving it smaller than Tony and naked. It's eyes were the only thing about it that was clearly visible, dark and burning like a demon's.

But it wasn't a demon or some related kind. Tony had met a lot of strange creatures in his years as Avenger, and while he had made the experience that spirits like this one could be very dangerous indeed they only were when someone threatened them. Or someone sat on their tree and managed to accidentally shoot his arrow at their cousin's tree's bark, like certain Avengers we don't want to mention here.

Just - why the fuck was there a nymph in Louis' garden, rasping against his windows?

Jean didn't seem fazed, though. Instead he threw his vacuum cleaner away after a moment of initial shock, and actually called for Mary, who, startled from the ... panic? Was it panic in his voice? ... came in mere moments later.

She, too, stared at the creature who now looked back at her and gestured at something outside. For a second, that is, before she said: "The books!" and was out again immediately, while Jean began to put together the vacuum cleaner.

"Louis?", Tony asked. Because Sigyn wouldn't make them scramble like this. Still, even _his_ return seemed unlikely to garner such a response.

Jean stopped, then tugged at his shirt. "Not Louis. We don't need a warning 'cause of the boss. That's ... oh, how do I explain this?" He stopped for a moment, seemed to look at Tony properly for the first time, then said, his voice firm even though there was something similar to desperation under it: "This is an ... a work partner of Louis’. Not the nicest guy. Actually, the complete opposite of that. Mostly. Sometimes. Anthony, he can't see you here. If he does ... he'll take you. And Mary and I won't be able to protect you." He looked around as if he was searching for words, his hand unconsciously opening and closing around nothing.

Tony's thoughts were whirling around. Half a minute ago Jean had been talking with him as if nothing was wrong, and Mary had been down attending to the books. And now the house seemed to be an anthill under attack, it's inhabitants madly scrambling about.

Somewhere deep within Tony’s old - or maybe not so old but certainly Natasha-reinforced - instincts kicked back in and he pulled himself to his full length without having to think about it, felt his stance shift to battle-readiness.

A part of him wondered if perhaps he could use this guy to leave here, but something in the way Jean had said ' _he'll take you_ ' had him take distance from that thought.

"You are going to invite him in?", he asked, calmness forced into his voice and radiating strength as he had learned from countless missions as Avenger - something Natasha and Steve had both forced him to learn after his failure to calm down a panicky fleeing group had lead to several serious injuries.

Jean turned to him again, paused for a moment when he found Tony staying there, strong and solid as a rock, then nodded. "Probably, yes." A deep breath, calming down further, then: "He can do magic, too. He'll sense you when you're in the house. Anthony, you have to go into Louis’ study, _and you have to stay there until either Mary or I are coming to pick you up._ Actually, don't let in _anyone._ And _don't leave before we come to get you, do you understand?_ "

Tony wanted to argue, but somehow Jean seemed to have overcome his initial frantic state and the fear still lingering under his stern facade made him nod. This wasn't like taking orders from Steve - orders Tony had rebelled against often enough - which always were given with an unvoiced 'if you can' or 'if you don't see/think of something better'. This was the voice of a man who knew that disobeying him could lead to death.

"Okay", he said. "Anything .... anything I can do?" It seemed somehow wrong to just go when he even now could hear Mary bustling through the house, and could see that Jean had packed up the hoover and was just waiting to bring it back to it's closet, but ...

But Jean just shook his head. "Go, at once. Please, Anthony - we can't let him in until you're safely away."

And the obvious pleading tone in his voice made Tony obey without further question for once, leaving the living room the same moment the door-gong sounded through the house.

Freezing for a moment he heard Jean hiss: "Why can't he ever not breach the garden gate whenever he comes!", then, to Tony who still felt like a deer caught in the headlights: "Go, _go!_ "

And Tony found his feet walking quickly on their own. Trying to radiate confidence had the lucky side effect to also help calm himself down, but the urgency and fear in Jean's eyes, partnered with the way Mary was now calling up to them, inquiring whether she could let _him_ in yet had ignited fear in him, too. And so he hurried down to the study, wondered just for a moment whether he would be allowed in - and, well, Mary and he had been inside putting decorations down only hours before without something bad happening, and Louis had invited him in there only this morning, too, but still ...

Then he heard the bell ring again, and all these thoughts vanished, left with opening the door and sliding inside just as Mary opened the door downstairs. He closed it to the first word spoken in a voice that seemed to be strangely familiar to him, though he couldn't quite place it.

And then it was only him, alone in the big room. The tree in front of the window blocked most of the gray light outside and Tony didn't dare light even the small desk lamp, so there was just the dusky twilight and a strange violet light emitted by sigils both at the door, the walls and across the window.

Tony had had to work with Strange enough to know when he was looking at magic sigils, and he realized why Jean had been so insistent that he was safe in the study - there were sigils of privacy here, potent enough that they only gave the barest of glimmers the barest bit.

Slowly he felt himself relax - felt the cold, hard knot in his stomach unclench. He hadn't really noticed what with the adrenaline pumping through him, but this ... this had _terrorized_ him. More than it probably should, but ... he had become used to being safe within Louis' house, safe under his strong hands and warm smile.

 _And you are,_ a small part of him said, and he looked up at the sigils, slowly going over the event of the past few minutes.

Yes, Jean and Mary had been frantic, there had been fear within them - but not for their own sake. It was only because of _Tony_ that they were afraid, only _Tony_ who might be in danger. And once they had calmed down enough to think they had made sure that _he was safe_ , as well. Had send him away to hide, yes, but - he _was_ safe, wasn't he?

Slowly the shaking in his limbs subsided while he repeated this in his mind - _that Louis would never have left him when he wasn't safe_ – but sitting down heavily on the floor, clenching the dust cloth he had forgotten to put down in his cold sweaty hands, feeling the cold weight in his stomach and the tremble in his limbs, he eventually realized that he wouldn't feel fully safe again as long as Louis wasn't here telling him that he _was_.

  
  



	63. Jotunheimr

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Well, Loki visiting Jotunheimr. And learning something about himself and his people that he would never ever have guessed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, here's the chapter that caused me so much trouble ... it's a lot of worldbuilding and I hope you'll like it anyway.
> 
> Next chapter we'll meet King Byleistr, then back to Tony's POV (anyone a guess about who's the unwelcome guest? ^^) and from there on chapters will also alternate between Loki and Tony again with each chapter.
> 
>  
> 
> Last but not least, many thanks to [evilwitch66](http://archiveofourown.org/users/evilwitch66), for being such an amazing (and amazingly fast^^) beta.

Loki was still filled with warm happiness from an hour spend with his son and once-lover lazing in the afternoon sun when he stepped out of the imprint the Bifrost had melted into the eternal ice of Jotunheimr and into a cold bright morning. Immediately he felt a shiver run over his Aesir skin when the frost hit him with all the vengeance of a hard wind, and a part of him instinctively tried to change to his more suited Jotnar form, forcing him to direct a part of his attention to suppress the urge.

With his concentration so diverted it was no surprise that it took him a moment before he could throw a quick glance around at the land surrounding them: ice spreading over the land in several shades of white and blue, covered the frozen ground so absolutely that it couldn't be seen anymore. Here and there a tree grew up into the sky, all of them too small to be older than a few decades; not even the turquoise  _pilvitarai_ who were the sturdiest of them could stand against the global warming that threatened to kill off the planet. At least it was late summer, the Shadows only a few months off so it wouldn't be too warm for much longer. It was also the time when the ubiquitous cloud cover was the thinnest, making it easy to see the wide band of the planetary rings glowing in the sky, almost eclipsing the smallest of the three moons,  _Peili_ , that could be seen next to it. Almost directly under the highest part of the rings, high in the north, rose a whole chain of mountains out of the snow. To their left side tall pillars indicated the entrance to a Jotnar settlement to their left, right down a gentle slope.

The faint jingle of chains and a harsh grinding sound of feet deliberately hard pressed into the packed snow alerted them to the pair of frost giants stepping forward to greet them.

They were both tall, much taller than him, and muscled in their rough stony way, with the barely there clothing and proud horns associated with Jotnar, but it was their jewelry that indicated their true status: two thick golden bands around their upper arms with the markings of someone high in the council for the one on the left, the other Jotnar with only one band - though it was as richly decorated, too - to indicate that he was a general. Both also wore rich decorations, dripping in delicate golden chains from their horns, encasing their wrists and ankles in more gold and red and green and blue, and hanging heavily around their necks. It was clear, just from the view of them, that king Byleistr had wanted to make the best impression possible, and while he had done so on Loki's previous visits, too, Loki couldn't help but feel as if he wanted something different from him this time.

He could feel how Sigyn shifted behind him when they drew near, instinctively reaching for her weapons before checking her movement - despite living with and befriending him, and having had to deal with the Jotnar as his bodyguard for a while now, the old hate between them and the Aesir was still all too fresh in her, still insisted she should kill them on sight. And while he knew that she would never hurt  _him_ , while he knew the same for his other friends and family from Asgard, there was still something refreshing in the way his human friends treated him not different even when he wore his true, blue form.

And Anthony most of all ... he had  _liked_ it, hadn't he? His eyes had been filled with wonder and a spark of excitement when he had seen him, his cold blue skin and the blood-red of his eyes, the lines of his heritage scrolling across his limbs, maybe even the small knobs at his forehead where his horns were beginning to develop, as if seeing such a strange alien was all he had ever hoped for.

A movement from one of the Jotnar brought him back to the present, and he returned their greeting bow with his own. It had taken him some time and a good bit of persuasion from Freya til he had believed that truly  _this_ was the way Jotnar greeted each other, the form seeming too polite for their brusque and point-on way. No wonder that Thor had been welcomed with such cold grace from Laufey - despite how much Loki despised his birth father he couldn't fault him for being put-out that  _Thor_ , as the lesser ranking and visitor, had not bowed his head to him as was custom  _even on Asgard_ . And this despite coming uninvited, and in obviously violent intention. Actually, Loki was surprised that he had been courteous at all - even Loki might have reacted worse.

Still,  _he was not Thor_ , he had no intention to  break  the treaty he had worked on so painstakingly to bring into existence and, most importantly, he would  _never_ endanger Sigyn by acting carelessly, so he made sure to bow in the appropriate way - not as deep as his welcoming party, but not too shallow either, for someone who was able to purchase jewelry this masterfully made had to be very successful and capable and was therefore deserving respect.

Still, as an ambassador from another realm and also a sorcerer and scientist he was of higher rank than a mere warrior or even a council member, and that had been something else he had needed to get used to. He had grown up amidst a warrior race, where strength and battle prowess had been what a man was judged by, and those who fell short were worth  _less_ , no matter what they were capable of in any other way.

Here however ... necessity made the Jotnar teach their young how to fight and hunt from a very young age, but while a high kill count was something to be proud of and cheered at, it was not necessarily what the Jotnar held in highest regard. Actually, Loki had been surprised to hear that King Byleistr was only a mediocre fighter and still lauded by his people - for his even temperament, his diplomacy, his compassion. Non of this would have been possible in Asgard, but here, in a realm where everyone had to work together to survive, even more so after the defeat and exploitation by Odin and what Loki himself had done to them in his insane rage, a king capable of mediating between his subjects, one who tried to repair relations with the other realms as well as return his own into a state where one  _wanted_ to call it  _home_ , was exactly what they needed.

Though it was not immediately visible, what king Byleistr had done. Not when they were standing here, within a wide frosted field, when there were a few snowflakes falling lazily down from the gray sky. There was no spot where they hadn't covered the ground, causing questions as to how the strange plants of Jotunheimr had managed to take root and grow out of the frozen soot, making a gnarled storm-tossed statement of life.

And yet ... and yet, that was an Aesir's view of the surroundings. The way one might see this cold wild world who was used to the warm lush places of Asgard, of all the amenities a creature born on that planet might need.

But Loki  _wasn't_ born there, was he? He was not one of them, and even beyond that - he was a mage and traveler, someone accustomed to seeing places that differed vastly from each other, that were hostile to every life but it's native one, and he  _could_ _see_ this place with different eyes. 

The Casket of Ancient Winters was the heart of  _Jotunheimr_ , not as a state or power, but as the heart of the whole  _planet_ , like the Tesseract was the heart of Asgard planet, and the Aether was the heart of Svartalfarheimar. And the same way that removing the Tesseract from Asgard had left the planet colder, darker, and that hiding the Aether from it's planet had left this planet unrecovered from the last, terrible war fought there, so had also taking the Casket from Jotunheimr left scars upon it's home.

Just that Jotunheimr was no planet of warmth and growth, or of strong storms and heat and explosive monsoons, but of terrible freezing coldness. A coldness that bit in Loki's nose and chased the blood from his cheeks and hands, forcing him to call warmth back into his body with an amount of magic that would have him worry for Sigyn had he not known that her pure Aesir nature had far less problems with it.

Yes, Jotunheimr was cold, and freezing, and so hostile to life that it seemed to be a planet where life was barely possible - if one was alien to it's nature. For Loki knew that those plants - hunched and low and struggling - had no problem with the cold. Nor was it coincidence that all those plants were so young. These plants had developed in an environment so different to Asgard's that there was no way to compare them truly. Even now, in the summer and the sun warming the earth it was several degrees under the freezing point of water - a sure dead for Asgardian plants. Here however the plants had suffered from the warming accompanying the loss of the Casket, had struggled to fight their way up into the thick atmosphere only to fall once they reached too far upwards, their dark red and silvery and turquoise and violet-black corpses dotting the landscape here and there.

There were pictures still, in the libraries of Ljosalfarheimar, showing trees unlike any others in all the nine realms and beyond, their shape undulating and reaching like algae in the sea, who grew up higher than any mountains, high in the low clouds, pulling at them with their gnarled branches like old women reaching for a passing piece of escaped parchment. Global warming and the occurring shift in the atmosphere had brought most of these giants tumbling down, only a very few still towered over the ice, most of them high up in the north or low in the south around the poles.

But not only the once famous giant trees of Jotunheimr had suffered. From what Loki knew about the planet, it had only two different seasons, a long cold winter and a short slightly less cold summer. Well, and the Shadows, as the Jotnar named it, which was  _technically_ summer but felt more like winter. In the summer, when the planet was as near to the double-suns as it would ever get - which was not near at all, really - the equator - always the warmest point of the planet - would warm even further, leading to the permafrost soil melting fully and heat to sink deep into the crust. And around the time the planet had reached it's turning point the heat would be enough to start the volcanoes.

It was an unbelievable frightening and amazing spectacle, when hundreds of cracks along the equator started to ooze lava at almost the same time, some slow and low to the ground, other explosively catapulting ashes and stones up into the air, polluting the atmosphere with poisonous particles and thick heavy dust. Loki had viewed it once, in the almost indestructible shape of a dragon, and even he had felt the strain it had on his lungs to breathe this air, to withstand the gravel raining down on his armored hide, to bear the heat that was like nothing Jotunheimr experienced at any other time in the year. And yet it had been an experience he would never ever wish to have missed.

There were barely any animals left around the danger zone once the explosions started – as soon as the warming of summer began the wild creatures took it as a sign to leave for the poles. It was both to protect themselves from the ashes as well as to flee from the heat - even without the added heat of the entrails of the planet it would be far too hot for creatures used to temperatures rarely reaching more than about -20°C.

At least the warm season stopped sharply with the explosions - the dark ash clouds dropped the world in a sudden cold time again. The heavy ashes would be spread over the whole planet within days, carried by the same currents that brought the summer warmth to the whole planet instead of just the half turned to the sun, damning the other to stay in an eternal winter which would have been too cold even for Jotunheimr's creatures.

The ashes were a very good sign of how very adapted the life on Jotunheimr was to its environment - once settled, the remains fertilized the - now in many places snow-free - earth in record time, inviting the animals to return to the places that had only two months ago been poisonous and hot and everything that spelled death on Jotunheimr.

But the loss of the Casket had shaken this long established balance - with the planet suddenly diverting from it's proper orbit around the binary suns, turning nearer and nearer to them, the warmth was spreading under the thick atmosphere and the numbers of snow-free places increased ever more. The animals were forced to stay away from ever more places of highly fertilized grounds, resulting in their health and number dwindling, and the fight for daily life to become even more harsh.

Without the explosions, and the resulting Shadows, this progression of decay would have been even faster, but even so it had been fast, resulting in a whole planet to struggle for life within barely more than two-thousand years after it had been at the high of its health. And that even though the Jotnar had done what they could to care for their planet and its ecosystem, even going as far as to control their own births.

He had returned the Casket to them only three years ago - earth time; less even on Asgard and only one year and a bit for the Jotnar - and he supposed there could be no way that he could feel a difference. And yet ... when they walked past a low struggling bush - reaching up to only his chest, mid-thigh for the Jotnar - he thought the new sprouts looked fresher, straighter, healthier than the older ones. Maybe it was his imagination, but he liked to think that things were returning, however slowly, back to normal.

A normality that obviously included a high watch tower at what might be considered the entrance to the settlement. The Jotun above it looked down at them with an unreadable expression - one Loki had seen far too often on their faces and knew to interpret as at least not outright hostility. A step up, really, considering his first welcome.

The path lead still down after the tower, though not as far anymore until they reached the first house. Well,  _house_ \- it was like nothing what Loki was used to from Asgard and he could easily see why most Aesir believed Jotnar to be barely more than savages. It was more a low nondescript hill, an igloo made from ice and snow, with a simple opening serving as the door and devoid of any kind of windows.

There was no need for them, Loki knew. This was no house - Jotnar didn't live in the same kind of houses as Aesir – didn't live in houses  _at all_ . Instead they lived under the ice, in caves that were lying even now under their feet, all of them connected by long hallways. Loki had been invited down there only once, and the care with which they had decorated this place had stolen his breath - reliefs so delicate a  Ljósálf might give their soul to be able to create, stone and metals and the light blue iron-hard wood of the  _rayuta_ -tree laid out in stunning mosaics at the ground. Plant fibers, painted and woven to show the most amazing pictures, hid the openings to private rooms. And the spectacular use of light ... Jotnar had an amazing night vision so that the light falling through the ice above was more than enough for them. Yet when they had invited him down it had been because of an unexpected storm rolling over the land, and while Jotnar could withstand it easily it didn't mean they  _liked_ doing so. So they had beckoned him down through one of the entrance-houses, and then one of them had turned a few mirrors in another house, and suddenly the whole underground had been bright like a sunny afternoon on Asgard. The rays had been caught in the ice, causing them to sparkle in all the colors of the rainbow and suddenly he had understood that even the reliefs were more than  _just_ art, were meant to funnel the light along, to spread it further into the tunnels.

It had been an overwhelming experience and disabused him from any notions he might still have harbored about Jotnar being savages.

A loud cry brought him out of his musings and he felt himself turn automatically in the direction of the voice before he recognized the word he had heard –  _pilvi_ , cloud.

It had nothing to do with him, just a few children playing the game that seemed to be what the Jotnar used as national sport. King Byleistr had once explained the rules to him when he expressed interest, and he could still feel the astonishment he had felt then when he became aware of how complex the game was that even  _children_ played here. 

Could feel it still, when he saw the way a small child ran over the field, took the lead, making gestures of triumph in the direction of a bigger, likely older kid. Could feel envy that he hadn't had the possibility to be raised with a game like this that challenged brain and body both.

There were no adults supervising the children, and Loki knew that a lot of them would be out, hunting or following the traces of animals or collecting plants or whatever they did when they were not in the city. There were a myriad things to do in order to stay alive, and protect the fragile balance of prey and predator on a planet without it's heart. And Loki hadn't exactly made their task easier by returning the core to them - it would take decades, at least, until everything would return to a self-sustaining path.

And so even the adults that had stayed here - either because of being new parents, or because their calling was that of a certain kind of scientist - were often focused on work. Yet even this was done in ways that were unusual in Loki's eyes to say the least - only a very few of them stayed in the houses set aside for experiments or observation. Most sat outside, talking lightly to Jotnar preparing food or weaving clothes or, in one case, forging metal. They passed a class of five students, listening carefully to their teacher, scribbling some notes in what seemed to be their palms but that Loki knew where the illusory surfaces provided by a small device clasped to their wrists. It was similar to what some Aesir used, but he had also seen some of the scientists use theirs in ways that he hadn't ever thought possible. It was a startling sign that the Jotnar might be even more advanced in their knowledge than Asgard, no matter the disadvantage they had by living in such a strange world.

Loki blinked, reminded himself firmly that just because the world wasn't Asgard this didn't have to be a handicap. It was hard to shake two-thousand years of learning about Asgard's superiority, even when one had known it to be not absolute for hundreds of years.

To distract himself from his thoughts Loki turned his thoughts back to the Jotnar. Back to the way they differed from the Aesir.

Of course, there was the way they were bigger, and blue, and had an inborn ability to cool their body down until they could make ice appear on their skin, usable as a weapon but also to help with building and protecting heat sensitive roots of those trees they gathered their fruits from. They lived by a code of mutual help that was unthinkable on Asgard, result of having developed in an environment that would have erased them otherwise. They shared everything up to their private lives - there  _didn't even exist_ a word for gossip in their language -, resulting in lives spend together out on the streets or broad corridors under the ice. Their word for king could also be translated as mediator, and diplomat, and judge, but never as sovereign or tyrant, and their current king's brother was a highly respected teacher.

But what shook Loki the most, every time anew that he experienced it, was the way they reacted to him. He was used to being whispered about, to be blatantly hated, to be approached openly and slighted simultaneously.

And the Jotnar  _had_ hated him when he first came - no doubt about that. They had ambushed him and would have killed him if not for the fact that they couldn't very well kill someone who called himself an envoy of Asgard. Bringing the Casket back had bought him some goodwill with some, and at least enough with king Byleistr that he could pass through their settlements unmolested.

He hadn't stopped with that, though. Had instead tried to bring them in contact with merchants, to increase the quality of their life. Had tried to better their diplomatic status. And where he was used to have his efforts ignored or slighted the Jotnar not only acknowledged them but in turn treated him with increasing ...if not friendliness, so at least courtesy. Some of them had offered to teach him some simple things about their culture, like meals, or how to make the complicated fabrics they favored.

And there were the stares. Not  _hostile_ \- well, not  _overly_ ; there were always some rowdies who thought they must attack him at least verbally, and in truth he could not fault them for trying to express their grievance, least of all when they only resulted in insults to his brain, his ability to bear children (this had him laughing every time, even though he tried not to show it; Sleipnir was proof enough that he had not the least problem with bearing children) and his physical prowess. But even those who bore him no ill will were staring at him, often openly though they would turn their eyes once they were sure he had noticed them as was normal for them. And it was hard, oftentimes, to read their faces. As hard as he hoped it was for them to read him.

It was shortly after they had crossed the river - a dark blue band deep down under the ice, even under the tunnels, that streamed through the city and then vanished south were he would join some other rivers and finally enter a the mostly ice-covered ocean half the size of Asgard Space Station somewhere halfway to the equator - when he came upon a sight that he had never seen before.

He was used to the typical scenes of Jotunheimr, of the adults sitting together and children sitting and running and playing between them. Of the studying and working and all the moments of peace and playfulness and just being together.

What he  _wasn't_ used to was the sight of the father sitting between his peers. They were working on something that might be a holographic map of a part of a space that, maybe, might be near Knowhere. Though it wasn't exactly the father that stole his breath but the the child lying in his lap, sleeping peacefully.

It wasn't that Jotnar children weren't small, but they were still too big to confuse them with an Ás baby.  _This_ child, though ... yes, it had the typical blue skin color of the Jotnar, and even from here and blinded by the glittering ice Loki could see the marks on their skin.

However, it would have been small even for an Ás child, and with it being Jotun ...

Obviously he had stared too long, for the father as well as several of his colleagues looked up and caught his staring. Blushing Loki retreated a step back, before remembering his manners and bowing in both apology and greeting.

When he looked up again he saw them returning the bow, and with that it should have ended.

Just, the father picked up his son and held him securely against his chest before clearing the distance between them with a few steps of his long legs.

Loki swallowed. So far he had managed to avoid causing a diplomatic disaster, and he wasn't aware of any rules he may have broken by staring at a father and his son, though his behavior was not actually the peak of good manners. But he hadn't grown up here, and it was entirely possible that they had rules concerning runts - maybe one wasn't allowed to look at them to avoid insulting the father or something.

But then, why wasn't the Jotun looking angry, or calling ice to his skin to show his clanmarks in displeasure? Why were the rest of them looking on with curiosity, but no animosity as would certainly be the case if he had done something so wrong?

When the frost giant reached him Loki was forced to look up, and he could hear Sigyn shift uneasily behind him; fortunately, he didn't need to tell her to remain calm. Still, it was not comfortable to look up to someone who was almost twice his height, and even more so when you were not sure what was about to happen and uneasiness coiled cold and hard in your stomach.

Therefore it caught him by surprise when the giant slipped to one knee before him, then carefully changed his child's position so Loki could better see the son's peaceful face.

"I lost a brother when you directed the Bifrǿst as a weapon against Jotunheimr", the frost giant began in a voice even more rumbling than most Loki had ever heard, and he felt guilt settle heavy in his stomach, felt apprehension about what the Jotun might do next.

But instead of attacking - a cause unlikely anyway because of the proximity of the baby -, he just continued: "When you came to us four years ago, to talk about a new treaty, I was as ready to pull you apart limb by limb as any." Sigyn shifted again, and this time Loki actually reached out to signal her to stand back.

"If this would bring back your brother I would subject myself to this immediately", he answered, and for once he found no part of the resentment in himself that he still felt so often for his birth race. But this time ... he still wasn't sure why he had done what he had done - he never, ever remembered hating them as much as to want to eradicate their race, despite those few fleeting moments between Thor's return ruining everything he ever wanted, and falling down into the abyss. And to stand here, listening to this words, made it even more obvious that he had done wrongly, had wronged so many innocents and he could never atone for such a crime.

The giant looked into his face, his red eyes less disturbing due to their color than because of the intensity of their look.

"I do believe you", the Jotun said eventually. "I did not then, but I do believe that you regret killing him now."

Loki could do nothing else than fall to his knees himself and bow deeply in the way the Jotnar asked for forgiveness, though he couldn't hope to gain any. "It was an action I regret deeply, and while I knew that I will never be able to atone for my crimes against your realm, I am trying to help you where I can." He had said this words before, when he came here the first time after gaining the throne from Odin, when he had still needed to get king Byleistr to trust him and work with him. It was a vow he had done whatever possible to fulfill, starting by returning the Casket and not ending by arranging for the  Svartálfar and several independent traders to start exchanging goods with the Jotnar.

The Jotun now was still looking at him oddly, before abruptly gesturing for him to stand up and come closer. "You have taken from me my brother; however, when you returned the Casket you also gave me Finigan, first sorcerer born to Jotunheimr since the loss of the Casket."

_Sorcerer born to Jotunheimr._

The words caught Loki like a cold blow into his chest.

Of course he knew that the Jotnar had sorcerers, despite there being few evidence about it beyond spells cast in battles. But he had never expected to ever meet one, and ...  _he's a runt like me._

It was coincidence,  _it had to be,_ but still Loki couldn't keep himself from asking: "He .. he is very small for a Jotun." Then, realizing it might be misinterpreted as an insult, he reached out and put his hand maybe an inch above the cool blue skin of the child to try and read the magic surrounding the small body. "He is very strong", he detected surprised.

The proud father nodded, though a dark amusement danced in his eyes. "Aye", he confirmed. "As all our sorcerers are, stronger than such warm-blooded beings." Luckily he didn't elaborate, so Loki didn't have to feign offense. Still ...  _stronger than warm-blooded beings_ ... and he  _was_ one of the best sorcerers alive, wasn't he?

"And he is of perfect size for a sorcerer - they do not have need of bigger size or greater muscles to defend themselves, do they? As you would know."

There was very obvious pride in that statement -  _pride and honesty_ . And from what Loki had read he knew what he heard here - sorcerers were  _prized_ on Jotunheimr.

_And when every sorcerer is a runt, and every runt a sorcerer, than my father - my_ birth _father - would under no circumstances ever abandon me alone in the snow to die._

_Odin, you bastard._

Either he had truly not known -  _not very probable_ -, or he had purposely told the story so Loki would believe him to be his rescuer and feel indebted to him.

_Guess what's true?_

But he could not deal with this right now, not the least because Odin wasn't here so there was no way he could rip his head off right now. No, now he had to deal with a king that had to be awaiting him in the great hall.

"No, he does not", Loki said, answering the question, before he rose to his feet again, dusted the snow from his thighs and took a step back again, bowing in goodbye. "I hope he'll have a long and happy life" he said. "And you, too."

The father looked at him with unblinking blood-red eyes for a moment, before standing up and bowing his head in return. "And you too, little sorcerer-prince of Asgard. May you never loose your path again."

His words seemed to echo like a prophecy, and Loki, having already had too many of those, just bowed again before walking away, carefully keeping his steps from being too fast.

Sigyn was at his side in a moment, but it were the two other frost giants that he caught watching him with a curious light in their eyes. They knew something was going on, even though they did not know the significance the truth about Jotun sorcerers had to Loki.

To hel with Thor and Baldr and Idun, and every fucking good memory be damned –  _he would kill Odin._

  
  



	64. King Byleistr

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki meets the king of the Jotnar.  
> Who is his brother.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, as promised, the next chapter of Loki's visit to Jotunheimr before we return to Tony
> 
> Many thanks to everyone who is sticking with this story and leaving comments and kudos despite me being that unpredictable with updates (I'd promise to be better, but I know my muse - that would be just the thing to drive her away ^^'). Really, even if I'm not always saying so - you're the reason I'm writing this monster of a story.
> 
> As always, many thanks also to [evilwitch66](http://archiveofourown.org/users/evilwitch66). I still don't know how you managed to get these chapters back to me that fast, but you're amazing.

King Byleistr was waiting for him in what might pass as Royal Garden. Not that it looked impressive, even less compared to Asgard's fine parks. When Loki just thought of his mother's garden, with it's thousands of flowers, all of them seemingly competing in which of them was the most beautiful, the most shiny …

This was different. A lot. There were much  _much_ less plants here, and only one of them – a vine hanging from some of the higher giant trees – bloomed. All in all the most similar structures he had ever encountered were Japanese Zen gardens, though it was probably the apparent bleakness that both showed at a first fleeting glance. There were no stones here, for once, only carefully arranged snow and snow hills and sculptures made of ice that he was still not sure whether they were naturally formed or meticulously carved. Trees – young giants and some of the smaller bush-like plants – were set between them, and there were even some low naked stalks were plants would grow leafs and blossoms again once the volcano-ashes had fertilized the soil – which wouldn't take too long now that summer came to it's end.

Yes, the gardens seemed desolate at first glance. But Loki had had been looking at them for a long time now, and the melancholy blue and turquoise of the ice only inspired calmness in him now. The gentle hills and lines in the snow, carefully drawn by a gardener, soothed his need for movement, while the silvery and green and dark red colors of the plants created just enough contrast to the eternal blueish hue to challenge the eye.

It was soothing to his anger, his soul, now. He still felt the betrayal, the rage within himself about _Odin,_ but somehow this calm _uncrowded_ place  helped him settle, focus.

He was here now as diplomat; he simply couldn't afford to lose his poise. Not here, not now. Later, when they were home, when he could send Sigyn back to Anthony and he had the time to  _think_ .

Taking some deep breaths to calm down – hoping that the Jotnar still accompanying them didn't notice – he shoved all that  _pain_ and  _confusion_ aside and focused back on the gardens.

Sigyn didn't like them – probably to do with her Aesir eyes – but Loki had come long ago to the realization that this was one of the most amazing things he had ever seen, and he was no longer questioning why king Byleistr would meet him here, within one of the most obvious signs that Jotunheimr was worth rescuing. Well, and then there was the fact that Jotnar  _liked_ being outside, watching the sky even though it was almost always covered by a thin layer of clouds - like today - and the sun was only a faint bright spot in-between, her light reflected in the snow and ice down here.

But it was not the open air that had made the Jotun invite Loki here today. No, more likely it was the pedestal standing in the middle of an open square within the gardens, the one part that differed starkly from the rest of them. The ground was not covered by snow; instead there were diligently swept multicolored tiles made from different stones and and inset with intricate carvings and decorations. From their make it was easy to see that different artists had made them, yet even in their irregularity they formed a harmonious whole, spreading as wide as the edge of the square and even beyond, forming a circle around the high stone pillars standing guard around the square.

Standing guard for what stood on a pedestal right in the middle of the square, it's blue glow reflected in the stones and snow and the Jotnar wandering the square: the Casket of Ancient Winters, in all his cold azure glory.

To say he had been surprised to find it here on a very open - _and open for everyone_ \- place, with only three frost giants to guard it, when he had visited the first time after he had given it back would be an understatement. He had grown up with Odin, who horded valuable and dangerous objects in his personal vault and would never let anyone see what he kept in it.

The Jotnar however were different. Where Aesir had developed on a planet with everything in excess, the Jotnar had to learn to work together to survive, and that was something that still lived in their descendants: while several of them were here now, watching both the Casket and King Byleistr with his visitor, not one made a movement to touch it.

It was not  _their burden_ to carry, but their  _king's_ , and again Loki found himself wondering how much about what he thought about rule and kingship was truly learned, and what was inborn.

"Prince Loki", King Byleistr greeted him when he entered the piazza, his face showing a kind of joy at seeing him that few other monarchs would have shown as openly. But then they didn't have an oath to help their people sworn by Chaos herself to aid them in bonding with Loki.

Behind him he felt more than heard their Jotnar escorts bow deeply before they left, their stride unhurried and unworried. He didn't care for them, simply bowed his head himself respectfully, answering "King Byleistr" before straightening again, the strange vocals rolling heavy and still strange over a tongue more used to Aesir words. But he felt lighter, a small smile tugging at his lips in answer to the one he could see spark in king Byleistr's eyes.

This  way to greet him , too, was something he loved about the frost giants - while they placed great value on politeness, there was no strict formality when it came to dealing with the king or other dignitaries. And though Loki enjoyed navigating the traps and snares that made up the entirety of Asgard's court intrigues (as far as Aesir were actually capable of such), or attending the verbal sparring matches that  Ljósálfar called conversations, he found this straightforwardness delightfully refreshing.

And King Byleistr wasn't one to disappoint his expectations, not even now when he had asked for a meeting himself.

"You're looking healthy", he said, looking down at Loki which he countered with a raised eyebrow; no one else ever dared this. "So your brother and the fighters of Midgard still haven't managed to defeat you yet."

Of course the king knew about that, though Loki still didn't know exactly _how_ he managed to be informed about what happened in a whole different realm all the time.

Curling his lips in amusement - damn, he  _did_ like him, and maybe he would even have liked to grow up alongside him as he was meant to do  _if not for Odin's constant meddling_ \- he nodded. "They didn't." Then he dared to muster the king in return - something he wouldn't have dared with any other monarch, but after several years of acquaintance he knew that King Byleistr wouldn't take offense. "You, too, look good. I take it everything is alright?" As if he didn't knew; having Heimdall as his accomplice was worth a lot.

And the king knew it, if the way he snorted was anything to go by. But instead of continuing in this vein and offering another light comment his face became serious and he just nodded once, sharply, before he winked for Loki to follow him into the place. Sigyn, who had staid glued to his side for the whole time, opted to wait for him next to the pillars; the Casket's power wasn't very merciful on her unprotected Aesir skin.

Loki could pretend that his magic protected him from that power, and he was very grateful for it, for the place itself was more than beautiful. He had seen it before, the artistic mastery as well as the deep love of each of these artists for the gardens and what they stood for: the tiles showed each a different motive, some were of animals, others of plants or spheres or even sun and moon and stars. Each was unique, made from different stone, some with inlays, others plain, still others with several layers, each of them a different material. But they still worked together, showed  _one_ harmonic scene, and when Loki had asked once King Byleistr had explained that this was how Jotnar culture worked: everyone was individual, different, but they all belonged together.

Tearing his gaze from the beauty around him Loki turned back to the king. "You asked for my presence, King Byleistr?"

The Jotun stayed silent for a moment longer, before sighing and nodding. "Yes, I did. Prince Loki."

Something in the way the king said his name made Loki steel himself against his next words; it seemed as if ... as if he was about to call in a favor, or a debt, and Loki knew full well that he owed Jotunheimr for what he had done to the planet and it's inhabitants.

"When last we spoke ... I told you that we have begun trading with  Svartálfar heimar." 

Loki nodded, even though he knew the man towering over him wouldn't see it.

"However ... what we need, and what we can offer, make the dwarfs and us not the best of trading partners."

Of course. The ore of Jotunheimr might be sought after in  Svartálfar heimar, but what the giants needed most was  _food_ , and in quantity, and this was not something the dwarfs could spare themselves; their realm might be rich with game, but they were no hunters, catching only what they needed for life. Nor would they allow anyone to hunt on their grounds to catch the animals themselves.

Loki had been aware of this problem, but he had needed to help the Jotnar fast, and negotiations with  Ljósálfarheimar were still coming slow, not to mention Asgard herself - even sitting on Asgard's throne he had never been under the delusion he could overcome thousands of years of hate and animosity, not even when the offer was ore that even the  Svartálfar lusted after.

Which left Muspelheimr that was both uninterested in what Jotunheimr could offer and unable to provide them with anything they could eat - despite them looking quiet similar their organisms where quiet different between those two races. And Helheim hadn't been trading with  _anyone_ for several hundred years now.

Which meant ... Loki looked up at the king feeling like he had entered an alternate reality. "Midgard?!", he said, his voice croaking a bit at the last syllable. But it was the only possible option, and King Byleistr  _had_ inquired after his relationship with the humans.

Even while Byleistr was still nodding Loki's thoughts flew to what that would mean: should the Jotnar want to trade with Midgard ... someone had to negotiate for them, or at least introduce them; after their last interaction with strange-looking aliens - the Chitauri – the humans would be a bit too trigger-happy otherwise. And since there was no-one else who had any official connection to Midgard it would have to be Asgard. Loki, normally, as ambassador to Jotunheimr. Or Thor, since he was Asgard's ambassador to Midgard. And since Loki  _couldn't_ because of his ... precarious standing with the officials of Midgard and Thor couldn't because he wasn't interested enough in politics to understand how  _absolute_ _vital_ this was ... well, Balder would be preferable, but in the end Loki suspected that it would be Idun who would mediate.

As for Loki himself ... well, as long as Midgard was not aware that they could ask Asgard to reign Loki in he was free to do as he wished. But it would benefit Jotunheimr to point that out to the humans, and that meant his days of playing with the Superheroes were counted.

But on the other hand, what had he done in the last week? He hadn't even had the  _desire_ to play with them, instead he had watched over one of theirs and found a satisfaction in it far more fulfilling than any fight and victory had ever brought him.

King Byleistr continued their slow walk, his steps slow enough that even Loki with his shorter legs could follow him without difficulties. Which was good, because somewhere between them striding through the pillars and fully entering the rest of the gardens he realized bewildered that the animosity he had always felt towards the Avengers was gone. And not just  _gone_ \- replaced by curiosity and respect and an almost overwhelming feel of possessiveness and protectiveness. 

And it wasn't as if that was actually something  _new_ . No, he had felt this way for ... well, some time now. There was that one time, when Doom suggested a plan that would lead to the Avengers' ultimate defeat and very probable death .. well, it wasn't the first time one of his "partners in crime" had suggested something like this, and always had he manipulated the outcome so the Avengers would come out of it alive.

At first he had done so because he had still not decided  _how_ he wanted to kill them. And oh, what he had thought of - days,  _months_ of slow and brutal torture. Or maybe driving them insane by letting them be hunted by monsters from their past - he had done enough research into their history to know that each of them had their own reasons trying for redemption. Oh, or his favorite: manipulating things so that one by one, they fell in disgrace with both the masses and the other Avengers. Of course, that would be seen through by the remaining ones after some time, but by then they wouldn't be a  _team_ anymore, and every attempt to come back together would be hindered by the opposition of the people out there - and wouldn't it be just too damn delightful should they actually start going against them? - as well as the broken trust between them. Yes, that  _was_ his favorite plan. A plan he had been working on still only weeks prior.

_So what has changed?_

Well, Anthony, obviously. Somehow having one Avenger, one of his enemies, in his house, having him helpless  _yet trusting_ , turning to him when he needed help or even just the reassurance that he was safe ... aside from his kids and lovers, Loki had never before had someone who trusted him so completely, even less so anyone who was in a such a vulnerable position.

And yet here Anthony was, and Loki found himself unable to continue even  _thinking_ about a plan to ruin his pet's life, not even beyond his stay with him. It was distasteful, cruel, and the part of him that screamed  _mine_ and  _protect_ at him every time he thought of Anthony couldn't believe he had  _ever_ thought of doing anything like this.

So when it came to Jotunheimr trading with Midgard ... it wasn't really a change, was it? Not when what King Byleistr asked of him was giving him an excuse to stop being the villain - and hadn't he thought that he would have to do so anyway, should he wish to remain part of Anthony's life after he released him back into the care of his friends? So really, it was exactly what he wanted.

And that wasn't even taking in account the debt he owed Jotunheimr, or the oath he had made to the king and his people to do whatever was in his might to help them rebuild and prosper again. As long as it wasn't violating prior oaths, such as those to Asgard and his family, of course.

Looking up at the king he nodded slowly. "We will have to talk about what you may trade with Midgard, and what should as of yet stay hidden from their eyes." And before the Jotun could interpret that statement wrongly he explained: "I have little doubt that they will come across many weapons to destroy themselves in the foreseeable future, but that doesn't mean we have to give them access to them earlier than necessary." And even though Jotnar preferred their own powers there was no doubt they had weapons and weaponizable technology aplenty.

The Jotun stayed silent for a moment, before saying: "I have to admit, I didn't expect you to agree."

Loki found a sardonic smile tug at his lips and was glad that the difference in height would make it difficult for the king to see his expression. "I swore to help you, King Byleistr. I also swore an oath to protect all of Yggdrasil's children, and help them prosper. It seems both Jotunheimr and Midgard will profit from such trade, so it is my duty to make it come into existence."

And it was, wasn't it? His duty, both to the realms as well as, possibly, his family.

His family of frost giants, who maybe, probably, hadn't left him to die as he had believed in the last years, after Odin's revelation.

A family that consisted of this king walking next to him more quietly than a colossus of such height should be capable of, carefully setting his feet so he wouldn't harm the plants around him, and another, even bigger frost giant, who would be his little brother by blood - Helblindi – whose profession it was to teach children of the world.

He could like them, this family of his, should they ever forgive him his doings.

It was a strange thought, but also an oddly comforting one.

  
  


  
  


  
  


  
  


 


	65. Rescue

Two-fifty-nine.

Tony hadn't looked to the clock immediately upon entering Louis' office, but it couldn't have been later than maybe two o'clock. They had eaten one o'clock as usual, then a bit cleaning ... yes, two sounded about right.

Which meant that he had been in here for an hour now, and no sign of Louis or Sigyn whatsoever. Nor of Mary and Jean, but if their guest was still here than they couldn't come up without endangering Tony, and possible themselves.

But ... Louis had  _promised_ , hadn't he? That he would try to be back for midday, or at least send Sigyn back? And yet Tony was still here, alone, in a dark office. Fear-sweat had cooled on his skin, leaving him damp and miserable with the feeling of having been forgotten. 

A feeling that had become much too familiar throughout his life.

He still didn't dare lighting the lamp, and so he couldn't pick up a book or one of the papers - though he wasn't sure he would have picked the latter; not knowing what he might encounter it sounded too intimidating given there was no Louis here to help him settle should he find something to frighten him again.

And  _sleeping_ ... well, Tony could barely calm down enough to sit instead of walk once the first fright had died down, so there was no way he was managing to fall asleep.

Which left him only the choice between doing nothing - and dwell on his thoughts; thanks but no thanks -, trying to hack into Louis' PC or use his phone - both of which he suspected to be warded against misuse seeing as there were traces of violet on them glistening in the twilight - or actually trying to do something useful.

Which was the reason he was now standing here, trying to get into the fairly complicated Third Position while his bladder complained loudly about being compressed when it was already full and his jeans pinched awfully into his thighs. But no matter how uncomfortable, he wouldn't shed the cloths, not even for his attempt on the First Trial - or what he remembered from them. No, he had thought of pulling off the jeans at least, but thinking of the intruder downstairs had brought forth cold sweat dripping down his spine. He knew, intellectually, that cloths or no cloths made no difference, but he felt better as long as he was still wearing them, so they stayed on.

He was just trying to find his way into the fourth position - he had to bow his knees some more, and bow his back so he could reach with his hand to-

And suddenly there was a loud  _thud!_ from downstairs and he was up again, his spine cracking, adrenaline rushing through his veins, his breath coming fast and harsh.

_What has happened?_

Had their visitor finally lost it? Had he begun running through the house, or started to depose of those annoying staff ... and why the fuck did he think Louis would be acquainted with someone like that?! (Well, he  _did_ keep him prisoner here, however comfortable this prison was, so maybe ...)

Or ...  _had Louis returned?_

In other circumstances Tony would never admit to his heart leaping up in relief at that thought, and a warm prickling feeling running through his veins and chasing the ice away. Would still never ever admit to it to someone else than himself.

But it was there - the relief, the hope, the cautious joy.

_Because with Louis he was safe._ Whoever was downstairs and had frightened Jean and Mary, was the reason for Tony hiding in here - they didn't matter. Louis would ensure that he was safe, that he was ... was  _feeling_ safe ...

And maybe it was Stockholm Syndrome talking, or it was genuine knowledge, but he  _knew_ , beyond any doubt, that Louis would keep him safe.

He was still a bit hazy about the reasons - maybe Louis really wanted to help him, or he just wanted him for himself, or it was simple possessiveness, but Tony knew that Louis would never allow anyone to harm  _his Anthony._

Since he was unable to sit still while he waited for someone to come to him, to tell him what happened he started pacing the room again. A part of him wanted to sneak out - that part that had been  _Tony Stark_ , once, and maybe the Iron Man part of him as well despite Steve's and Natasha's attempts to get him to act less recklessly - but he had a lot of experience now with doing what he was told, and honestly, he couldn't find in him the courage to dare to venture out.

So he waited, until a soft knock against the door brought his heartbeat up to high speed again, made his breath stop until-

"It's me, Anthony."

Tony sagged down again in relief; it was Sigyn.

The door opened a moment later and then it was really,  _honestly_ Sigyn who came in, her eyes flickering through the room for a moment until they settled on him, her face showing first wariness, expectation, then relief. 

What had she thought he had done, Tony thought, hidden himself away in the shadows and shuddered in thoughts about what might happen?

He conveniently ignored that he had done exactly that for his first few minutes alone in the office.

Slowly Sigyn advanced, her arms lowered, the palms of her hands upward as if to show she was no danger. As if she advanced to a spooked, wild animal. "Are you alright?" Even her voice was softer than normal.

Tony licked his lips and nodded. "Is he ... is he gone?", he couldn't help but ask, barely even caring that his voice cracked in the middle of the question.

Sigyn didn't need to inquire who  _he_ was. "Yes. And I don't think he'll ever stop by again; Louis isn't going to like it when he hears that you had to hide from one of his ... acquaintances in his own house." Slowly, still trying not to spook him - so like Louis, and yet different; lacking his confidence that he was allowed to touch Tony any way he liked - she raised her hand and laid it against his cheek. "It's okay, Anthony, you're safe now", she said, and even though her voice was nothing like Louis' – much gruffer, unused and unsuited to assuring someone - it worked, it made Tony calm down, gave him back the feeling of safety he had lacked so much in this last hour.

And Tony didn't care why, didn't have the strength to examine why he felt safe and cared for in their custody, why the relief flooding him at her words made him melt in her hands and body and an actual sob escaped his throat before he clasped his mouth shut. A shiver ran down his body at her proximity, the warmth bleeding through his clothes into his skin and her strange yet familiar scent promising that he didn't need to be afraid anymore. And then that lone shiver turned into another, and another, and then he felt himself quake, felt his body dissolve into relieved shudders when the adrenaline keeping him standing for the last hour left him boneless and weak.

And even though she was still clearly uncomfortable with the situation Sigyn reacted, reaching out a hand to stroke over his back, her form giving in until they sat on the ground and he could lay comfortably against her, his head resting against her collarbone. "It's okay", she said, softly. "You're safe now. You've always been safe - I don't think he'll let  _anyone_ ever come between him and you."

And maybe that should have sounded scary in its possessiveness, but Tony only felt safe in this statement that even  _Sigyn_ , who had known Louis for far longer than him, saw his possessiveness and knew that it meant that Louis would ensure his security.

Would never ever again let one of the monsters get him.

He couldn't say how long they sat there like this, Tony leaning against Sigyn, until his fear had died down and he sat up again, removing himself from this embarrassing situation.

Rubbing over his face - because he needed to get the wrinkles out of it, not to remove any tear stains - he groaned. "Sorry", he said, his voice still hoarse from emotions. "I shouldn't..." He wasn't sure how to finish that sentence.

Luckily Sigyn didn't need him to. "Come", she said, back to her more businesslike usual self. "This  _short thing_ Louis had to do turned out to be not that short at all, and I'm behind my schedule with the car."

Just that she had no schedule that Tony knew of; but it was a very convenient excuse to distract him and get him back into a more familiar routine.

And not that he didn't appreciate her effort, but he would have preferred ... "Louis ...didn't return?"

Sigyn pulled a face. "Sadly, no. And I guess he needs some time to himself right now - he made a few discoveries today that he needs to think about before he comes back." She hesitated for a moment before offering: "I need to call him about Victor anyway; if you want you can talk to him on the phone."

It wasn't even close to what Tony wanted, but it was better than not hearing from Louis at all, so he nodded and followed Sigyn out of the office.

They made a short stop by the bathroom – between his bladder killing him and his itchy, teary face he really needed that to feel like a human again. Still – he had calmed down, but the thought of closing a door between himself and the one currently keeping him safe made his breath speed up again, and though it was humiliating to need that he found himself leaving the door ajar.

Thankfully, Sigyn didn't say a word about that when they went down to the kitchen where Mary was busy cleaning a plate and tea cup.

Tony swallowed at the reminder that someone had been here in his safe haven, had almost taken him back to ...

"Anthony!" Mary was with him in a minute, her wet hands carelessly dried on her skirt before she reached for his shoulder, touching him gently yet firmly, her other hand tilting his face so she could look at him. "You don't look good, boy. Come, sit down here, staying up there all by yourself can't have been healthy. I don't know why Louis still wastes his time with scum like  _that_ … really, you're very pale. A cup of tea and some cookies will do you good."

Her motherhenning and the steadying hand on his shoulder when she pushed him into his chair was actually helping him more than any cup of tea might, but he nodded nevertheless, endeared both by her caring and by how much it reminded him of Bruce when one of them managed to get hit badly. Well, and Steve, too, actually - America's Golden Boy was almost as much of a motherhen as Bruce.

Settling under Mary's chatter and the calmness that somehow seemed to radiate from where Sigyn stood he sat down. The warrioress stood for a minute, watching him, then left to get the wireless phone while Mary distracted him by putting a cup into his hands that was almost too hot. He had to put it down hastily to avoid burning his hands and blow a cool breath over them. When Mary placed a dish with cookies on the table he glowered at them for a moment before carefully taking one of them and biting into it.

Sigyn was back almost before he noticed her absence, which was probably good seeing as uneasiness had returned to his gut without her there to soothe his instincts. She was already talking to Louis in that strange language of theirs, and when he listened carefully he could hear the faint sound of Louis' voice, something that helped him settle even further.

It didn't take her long to tell the tale and by the time Tony was taking his first sips of tea - instant tea was a gift of gods Tony didn't believe in - she held the receiver out to him.

Swallowing his tea - and somehow managing not to burn himself - he took it and asked, hesitatingly: "Louis?"

The warm, sure voice greeting him felt like coming home after a day with his board of directors, like sinking in his bed after being outside in the cold and having someone put a warm blanket over him.

Like being finally safe after hiding in an office for an hour, fearing to be dragged back into slavery.

"Anthony. Sigyn told me what happened. How do you feel, my sweet pet?"

"I'm ... I'm okay." Tony could barely blink the tears back, or keep his voice from betraying the relief he felt at hearing Louis. He felt even more emotional than normal – not having Louis around had somehow broken through all his barriers, and as much as Mary and Sigyn were trying, they simply were not Louis. Were not able to settle as fast as his smile and hand and powerful possessiveness could.

There was silence on the other end of the phone, telling him that Louis seemed to somehow know that, then a sigh. "No, you are not. I'm sorry, my sweet, I never meant for you to feel unsafe in my home, and I  _promise_ that I will do anything in my might to avoid it happening again."

A  _promise_ , again, to keep him safe. And Tony believed him, believed that he would be safe in the hands of this man. Believed it with a certainty that ran through his veins like a sweet hot liquid. "Okay", he whispered. Fuck, he couldn't be tearing up now. Not over this. He shook his head, trying to distract himself. He couldn't stop himself from asking: "When will you be home?", just to bite himself on the tongue afterward - he really didn't want to sound this needy!

But Louis answered as if his question wasn't that of a needy little child, as if it wasn't a question Tony's parents would have scoffed about. "I ... my day proved to be quite ...  _informative_ .” Was he … maybe for the first time ever Tony thought there might be some uncertainty in Louis' voice, some hint of a fragility he never would have associated with the man. But … Sigyn had said something about discoveries that Louis had to think about, hadn't she? And Tony knew about discoveries that could shake one up a lot. And really, Louis continued: “There are things I have to think about before I come home. I fear ... I will be home before dinner, yes? But I cannot … I don't think I can come earlier ..." 

_Dinner_ ... it was maybe three o'clock, dinner was a long way off, yet. Seemed even longer when Tony thought how he would have to spend it  _without_ Louis, without the comfort his nearness brought him, the smiles he inspired with his quips ...

Still, he would take what he could get. "Okay", he managed to say, his voice almost back to normal. "Okay."

Again a beat of silence, and Tony felt as if Louis knew that he held back his true feelings. And maybe he did, for he said: "Do not worry, my Anthony. You'll have Sigyn to keep you safe, and entertained." A small laugh came into his voice when he continued: "I fear she never got a chance to go through the Trials today, so you might suffer them at her hands, but I'm sure she'll take you down to the garage afterward, and knowing you you'll complain that I've come too early, and you aren't finished yet when I return home."

Despite himself Tony couldn't help but smile at that "'kay", he said again, but this time with more conviction. "I'll wait for you."

"I know", Louis said, his voice warm and comforting.

They were both silent for a moment and Tony was prepared to give the phone back to Sigyn when Louis said: "I'm in the city right now. I have been thinking ... I want to buy you some more clothes anyway, so is there something you would like? Suits? A special brand of shoes? Maybe a watch?"

Maybe Tony should have been offended by this words, and yes, a small part of him thought  _Am I a woman, to be bribed with shoes?_ , but the greater part of him knew that it wasn't meant that way. That it was meant more in the way in which he bought Pepper giant stuffed rabbits or gifted his team with weapons crafted beyond compare. Not to buy someone's loyalty or friendship, but because it's sometimes the only way you know how to atone for not being there when you should be, or being too obnoxious for even your own good.

Warmth flooded him, gave him a feeling of love, of being loved that he cherished as only one can who had to go for most of his life without.

So instead of being offended he smiled - yes, Louis was trying to bribe him, but he was so obviously doing it to … repay him? Make amends? For not being here when Tony had needed him?

_And when was the last time someone cared that much about me?_

Still, what he wished for … "An ACDC-shirt. Or Iron Maiden."

Probably not what Louis had expected, if his perplexed silence was anything to go by, but the amused chuckle it turned into cut off Tony's fear he might have said something offending.

"An ACDC-shirt for my Anthony, alright. I'll see what I can find for you, beautiful."

The pet name send a shiver down his back - and it was most definitely not one of fear. "Thanks", he said, his voice hoarse, and hoped that Louis hadn't noticed how much this had effected him.

"Are you feeling better, sweet? Can I go about my day without fearing you hiding in a corner?"

Tony huffed offended. "I'm not a child!", he protested.

He didn't think of the minutes sitting paralyzed by the fear their visitor might snatch him back into the darkness. Or of falling into Sigyn's lap, sobbing in relief. Wasn't thinking of how tensed he had to have been that it had made Mary offer him a cup of tea. Didn't want to.

Licking his lips he admitted in the end: "Sigyn's here."

"Yes, she is." Louis' voice was warm, and Tony didn't know what to say. So he was grateful when Louis asked him to give the phone back to Sigyn again, who took the receiver with slightly raised eyebrows.

Realization hit Tony and he looked first at her, then over to Mary who was busy drying the cup.

He felt how blood flowed up in his head in embarrassment - they both had born witness to his ... conversation? To how he had poured his heart out? With Louis who still was his  _captor_ \- and ducked his head, taking another sip of his now noticeable cooler tea. He was really grateful that Mary tactfully pretended the whole conversation hadn't taken place and just took his empty cup off him to put it in the dish washer.

Sigyn terminated the call after only a few words, then turned to Tony. "Gym, then garage?"

Her eagerness was so genuine that he had to smile, and answer, though with less zeal: "Sounds good to me."

  
  


 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Points to Keiks, who correctly assuemd it had to be Victor van Doom ^^
> 
> Ans, as always, many thanks to [evilwitch66](http://archiveofourown.org/users/evilwitch66) for betareading


	66. Victor van Doom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meeting Victor van Doom

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is ... Do you know when you sit down and plan how a chapter has to go, and then your characters demand you put on something entirely different? Yep, that's what happened to this chapter. And, most of all, to Victor van Doom. So while he was supposed to be an evil villain that I could send to prison or kill off when I need to or whatever, he became this instead.
> 
> As always, many thanks to [evilwitch66](http://archiveofourown.org/users/evilwitch66)

­Hitting the end button on his handy felt ... strange. Almost ... intimidating.

Because without Anthony and Sigyn distracting him his thoughts returned to what he had learned today. Returned to King Byleistr and the other frost giants on the street.

Returned to the knowledge that his Jotnar family couldn't have possible left him out to die on that day when Odin stole him.

Odin, who as a sorcerer himself, and king of Asgard, must have known of Jotunheimr's sorcerer runts. Must have known the esteem they were held in - Loki had noticed it on his first visit there, and he had had to deal with the anger his previous actions had caused then.

Which meant that Odin had known, beyond doubt, that Loki hadn't been left in a temple to perish - if he had been in that temple after all. There was no saying how far Odin's lies extended.

And what Loki wanted to do about it now.

On one hand, nothing had changed - he was still  _Sorcerer-Prince Loki, raised by Odin, second in line to Asgard's throne._ The man who both almost obliterated Jotunheimr and now helped it come to life again. Who brought war to Midgard, though it wasn't by his own choice. Who was now living between the humans and simultaneously taking his frustrations out on them (though the days of his mischief were numbered, now, admittedly).

On the other hand ... both King Byleistr and Prince Helblindi were suddenly, painfully  _kin_ . Of course, they had been before, but he had never thought of them as this before now. Had never allowed himself to listen to the grief in Byleistr's voice when he spoke of his lost baby brother, or the anger in Helblindi's. Never allowed himself to see the loss in their eyes, or in ... the king's sire. Who might be his sire as well, since both of Laufey's other sons were sired by him as well.

So he still had a blood-parent ... a sire. A sire who had cursed him that one time he saw him, giant muscles flexing under cold blue skin with the desire to kill him. It was only King Byleistr who had kept Farbauti from ripping Loki's heart out, Loki was sure. There was a reason that the king's sire had never been around again when Loki was visiting.

But there was still, still something else in this. For when they had never wished his death, then it meant that a part of Loki's new self was crumbling. It felt painful, a wound opened and re-opened once too often ... first when he found out he wasn't Odin's son ... then when he found out he was  _Laufey's,_ the son of the one frost giant he was prepared to call a monster even with all he knew about them, for wasn't it he who had lead his warriors to war against a helpless realm? 

But it couldn't stop there, now could it? Because shortly before he had lost Thor, something that still send a shock through his system in remembered terror, when the bond between himself and his anchor had been torn so abruptly, leaving him without shield. And as if that wasn't enough it was followed by the few disastrous days of his reign, by the betrayal of people he had thought of as comrades in arms, of Thor returning and thinking he could and  _did_ do anything like betraying his home.

It was no surprise he had thought falling into a dark unknown void was better than staying, with everyone betraying him, letting him down, doubting him or simply being  _conveniently somewhere else._

_Like Frigga, who was his mother and hadn't once left her husband's side to help him keep the realm together. Or Balder, who might have swayed the warrior's and the courtier’s opinion to him, but was busy somewhere on the planet, in a unimportant station so far away he couldn't even be contacted by Loki. Or Idun, though he could understand the madness of the muse driving you into self-imposed isolation just too well._

He loved them, but there was still black bitterness eating at him when he thought of how they had left him to deal with this on his own. Left him to suffer being prince regent while being confronted with Odin's revelation about his true heritage. While having the Jotnar cry for war against Asgard. While having no-one trusting him. While having his own magic run rampant without it's usual anchor.

No, him resigning himself to defeat was no surprise.

What was one, however, was the clarity with which he was thinking about it  _now_ . Of course, it wasn't the first time he had tried to recap the happenings, had tried to find out what had happened to him, what had lead to him acting so unlike himself - wiping out a race?  _His own race?_ \- But never before had he been able to think about it without the sting of anger muddling his thoughts, without the feel of betrayal turning all his thoughts until he couldn't differentiate anymore what was right and what wrong.

But could it really be that Anthony had changed him so much? Yes, he had said so to Balder and Idun, but ... Sweet Chaos, he was  _a human_ ! Loki had known him for  _years_ now, and nothing had changed, and now, not even a week after he had met him again, after he had rescued him from his abusers ...  _now_ he felt like a completely new, or maybe old man.

"What have you done to me?!", he whispered harshly, ignoring the surprised and worried looks of the people around him, opting to instead spew another curse to the man he knew, beyond doubt, he could never hurt. Nor without hurting himself, too.

Without tearing his chest open and ripping his heart apart.

So, really, it didn't matter whether this was because of what he had learned today, or because of Anthony, wasn't it? The change in him was welcome, was what he had waited for for so long, and the decision to keep Anthony had been made a good while ago, anyway.

A fierce smile came to his lips when he thought of how the man would react should he know who had claimed him as  _his_ . Well, he was Loki, and he always got what he wanted, so Anthony would just have to deal - kicking and cussing and spewing foul curses, as soon as he regained more of himself, that for sure, but Loki actually found himself looking forward to it.

  
  


?¿

  
  


He had just exited another infernal shop, buying those stupid shirts Anthony had requested, when he saw him sitting in the window of the a little  cafe across the street. He was sitting there, a drink in front of him and chatting with the waitress as if not all those people around him wouldn't run away screaming should they come to know who he was.

It wasn't so odd, actually - Loki used the same technique after all, hiding behind a gold armor and a helmet that drew every eye from his face, though his hiding was supported by the glamor he wore whenever he wished to not be  _Loki_ .

Victor, on the other side ... he just made the costume and the mask into his entire being. Even his loyal subjects had no idea about the man under the mask, and if not for the fact that Loki had once ripped it off him in a bout of anger he wouldn't know as well.

That day could have ended in bloodshed and death. Instead Loki had become the probably only person van Doom trusted to keep his appearance a secret.

It had been the beginning of ... no, not friendship; neither of them trusted the other enough for  _that_ . But sometimes the knowledge of how much you can trust someone, of the goals the other has, is enough for you to trust him even more than a friend, for him to be even closer to you.

Victor was someone like this for Loki. Maybe the only villain he had ever truly allied himself to, the only one he had ever hinted to of his confusing feelings for the Avengers and Thor, and told outright that he didn't wish for someone else to kill them, or incapacitate them.

And while Doom had come close,  _very close_ a couple of times to cross that line, he had, in the end, always acquiesced to Loki's wishes.

Sure, he knew that Loki was the superior warrior, was better with his magic than he ever could dream to be, but he had some aces up his sleeves as well. For example he knew that Loki still loved Thor, knew that Asgard wasn't  _that_ opposed to its exiled prince as an allied realm should be.

Facts that Thor would have paid a lot to know. Or SHIELD, for that matter.

But then there was honor in him, as was in Loki - a twisted, cruel kind of honor, that would allow him to back-stab whoever was in his way but not betray an ally without cause, though Loki had little doubt that Doom had quite a few plans about how to deal with him should he ever prove to be an enemy.

And this was a dilemma, here, wasn't it? Because Loki  _truly liked_ the man, but would have to cut ties with him to fulfill his oath to both Asgard and Jotunheimr.

Sighing he decided to postpone that conversation - no need to deal with this without first planning every step of it, preferable with both of them ending at least neutral and continuing their bi-weekly chess-games.

Well, maybe he could introduce him to Anthony some day ... should he ever manage to get him to get rid of that thought that he alone had to shoulder the defense of his homeland.

It took him just a few minutes to cross the street and enter the cafe. The warm air hit him like a furnace, and he felt his always latent Jotnar nature hide deep within him from the heat. Not that his Aesir self fared far better; even used to the hot climate of Asgard and wearing only a jacket he had bought for himself – the leather mantle had been far too conspicuous - this was simply too much.

Humans were such pussies sometimes. Always, really.

Most of them, at least.

Victor was not the least surprised when he approached him from behind, simply waved a hand to the chair beside him.

"I greet you, Loki of Asgard", he said, knowing enough about the magic concealing Loki to not only spot him in a crowd but also to not be too careful which name he used, knowing it wouldn't be noticed anyway.

Smiling Loki shook the snow from his jacket before putting it over the back of the chair and settling down in it, waving for the waitress to indicate that he wanted to order. "Greetings to you, too, Victor", he said.

The man's lips formed a smile that seemed to be genuine, and Loki found himself wondering again how such a man could become such a vicious villain.

Most of the men and women who had gone to the dark side had suffered in their life before, either being ugly, or poor, or not intelligent enough and being mocked for it by their peers.

_Well, or problems with their parents or siblings, like myself_ , he thought, a wry smile tugging his lips upwards.

Victor, however ... he might not be beautiful in the way Midgard seemed to favor them this age, but he was certainly not ugly with his light brown hair, the strong features, his kissable lips and a jaw to split granite. His figure, too, was well build - not so muscular as to seem obscene, but not too lanky either. It really had Loki wondering oftentimes why he was hiding himself under a mask and costume most of the time.

As to his family, or those he grew up with ... in this, Loki could only envy him - the man had been his parent's apple of the eye, and his people worshiped the ground on which he stepped, had done so long before he ever donned the mantle as their ruler and benefactor.

So why did he do it?

The answer could be insanity, but Loki doubted it. This was not a man who had lost his grip on reality. No, rather he presumed that it was something else, something simple like what had happened to Loki, too, whenever his dearest ones were in danger - he thought the only way to protect them was to attack  _first_ , to hone his skills until he was able to go up against everything, and to show them off to those who might test them so they never dared to attack.

It was a good plan with only one flaw - after his forceful liberation of his people from the humans trying to keep them down there was no need for this kind of demonstration anymore, but Victor, sadly, had never understood that. Had never gotten the message that the fight was over, like those warriors in Asgard that started a fight with whoever was in their way.

Knowing this had made Loki start liking the man long ago, and now, with his own peace, his own thoughts returning to him blossomed the wish to help this man that he had come to see as ... well, not a friend, but something close to it. The wish to turn him into what he was always meant to be - a fair ruler of his country, strong, yes, yet also respected not only by his own people but the rulers of other countries as well.

Though that urge warred with another - he really,  _really_ wished to strangle the man for frightening his Anthony, for bringing such a tremble to his voice. For shattering the feeling of peace and safety that he had had in Loki's house.

The waitress arrived, startling him out of his thoughts. He didn't look up to her, just ordered a hot chocolate and a piece of today's cake without even looking at the menu, barely taking his eyes off the other man.

Victor noticed that, raising his eyebrow questioningly, but he waited until the girl was gone again before asking: "I assume you already know that I tried to speak to you earlier today?"

Loki nodded slowly. "And scared my servants, yes." He was still unsure how much he could tell Victor.

Though, in the end he was scarily smart, in the same range as his little pet or Loki himself, so it really was more of a question of  _when_ he would come to know of it, instead of  _whether_ .

"That was not my intention. Please relay to them my most sincere apology." Victor took a bite off his cake - a strawberry tart, and Loki hoped he hadn't ordered that same cake - he could smell the artificial flavors even over the whole table. "But this is not why you won't look at me."

Smart, yes. And much more attentive than most other people he spend time around.

Nodding Loki agreed. "You are right - there  _is_ something more." Not sure how to explain he fell silent for a moment, tried to put into words what had happened, and what it meant for them.

_What_ does _it mean for us?_

Obviously he had been silent for too long for Victor looked up sharply, his eyes narrowing. "Shall I expect the Avengers to join us in a moment?", he asked, startling Loki badly. "Or maybe the Fantastic Four? I guess  _Reeds_ would pay a lot to get to know how I look."

Loki knew that he couldn't make the most striking picture - surprise had never looked good on him - but then he didn't care. He hadn't thought Victor would assume that ... but then this  _was_ what Victor would assume, wasn't it? First Jean and Mary, who had always been, if not cool, so neutral with him had been scared by his presence, and now Loki was stalling for time ... Loki couldn't even blame him, he would assume the same.

Shaking his head he answered, firm and with as much honesty as he could believably put in his voice: " _No_ , Victor. You may not be my friend, nor am I yours, but I still think that you deserve better than to be caught this unaware."

Victor wasn't buying it as his still clamped jaw and and his next words showed: "As if you wouldn't sell me out in a minute if it fit your plans." There was a sneer on his face that truly didn't suit him, and judging by the way his left hand crawled towards his jacket he was seconds away from turning into his villain-self.

But there was also a small trace of hope in his voice, and to this Loki spoke: "Of course I would. But do you truly think I would give you  _this much_ warning?" Victor hesitated and Loki continued: "Victor, you  _know_ me. You know how I  _think_ . Do you truly think you would see it coming should I turn on you?"

Slowly the tension went out of the other. "Probably not", he agreed. "But that still doesn't explain why you are acting as if you did."

Loki sighed; the immediate danger was banned and hopefully this day wouldn't end with a fight between him and Dr. Doom. He just needed to decide what to tell Victor ...

And it should be believable, when he wanted for Victor to believe him. A bad lie could still potentially lead to disaster.

Well. Loki had always believed that when one couldn't sell a lie, you should try the truth.

"Politic", he said, shrugging. He leaned back deliberately, gave himself a relaxed pose so Victor's subconsciousness would pick up on it and make him calm down. "An ally of Asgard has decided to start trade with Midgard."

Victor's eyebrows rose. "Asgard has been Midgard's ally for a while now, and it didn't matter to you", he pointed out.

He was right. It seemed Loki would have to reveal a bit more.

Licking his lips he nodded. "No, it didn't. But this ally ... is  _special_ ." As in  _Loki couldn't stand in the way of this treaty special_ .

Victor took it in silently, before eventually nodding.

Still, he had to wait before he could say something because the waitress returned, putting a perfect cup of chocolate and a piece of strawberry cake in front of him.

Loki eyed it with deepest disgust. It was too red, too sparkly, and just simply too  _fake_ to be real.

Victor chuckled, before reaching over and pulling the cake to himself without question. "And here I wondered why you ordered it", he observed. Giving Loki a long look, he seemed to decide that it was safe and pushed his fork in the cake.

"So, Loki-the-villain will return to his life as Loki, Prince of Asgard?", he asked, methodically slicing the cake in biteable pieces, however still without taking a bite.

"No, he won't", Loki answered the question. "Because Loki-the-villain was always still the Prince of Asgard." Shaking his head a bit he sighed and then just head-on approached the subject Victor was dancing around: "I will not turn over every secret I learned, or join one of these colorfully clothed hero-teams. I've never been hero-material, and I doubt spandex would suit me. And I have been raised on  _Asgard_ \- while I may not share their view of the world, their believe in honor has effected me, too, even though I don't believe any of them would recognize their honor in mine." He made an effort to catch, and hold, Victor's dark eyes. "I will not betray anything I learned about you, or your identity, or anything about your people. Not as long as I have no reason to fear such a betrayal from you, or you attack those that are mine."

" _Yours_ ." A hint of humor came into Victor's voice. "As in,  _the Avengers_ ?"

Loki smiled. Of course Victor knew.

"The Avengers, too, yes.", he agreed. He had always had a soft spot for them - had always wanted to kill them himself, in the most painful way possible.

Though that wasn't on the menu anymore. Sure, he was still angry - how dare they make Thor listen to them when Loki hadn't been able to do so? - but not even close to how it was before - before  _Anthony_ \- and most of his anger was directed at Thor, now, who really was the one who deserved it. 

And there was  _no_ anger in him with Anthony anymore. He had been hurt enough, too much already, and Loki didn't want to have him hurt anymore.

Which meant he had to make things clear with the man in front of him, if he wanted to avoid having to chose between those two.

Leaning forward a bit, his face as serious as his voice, he said: "I don't want them to die, though if you want to play with them, be my guest. However, you can always come play with me, on the chess board, as well. As long as you ring or send a SMS beforehand."

Victor laughed. "I never got your phone number", he pointed out, humor dancing in his eyes.

But he ate a piece of the cake, and he allowed Loki to save his number in his phone before giving his own to Loki.

And that was what mattered in the end, wasn't it?

  
  


 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Really not sorry, because I love my Victor. There may or may not a scene with him, Loki, Tony and Bruce playing chess in the future.


	67. Return

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> emotions, EMOTIONS, _EMOTIONS ___

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, never thought you would love Victor that much. Or would like that chess scene that much. Can't really do anything but include it once we reach that part of the story now, can I? ^^
> 
> For this chapter however ... well, hope you like your emotions raw, because that's what's being served now.
> 
> As always, many thanks to [evilwitch66](http://archiveofourown.org/users/evilwitch66).

­Working on the coffee machine - and actually finishing it, too! - had calmed Tony down immensely. And after that he could argue with Sigyn about the proper way to restore an ancient car to its former glory, something that he enjoyed as much as he ever did bickering with Bruce. But even so there was still an unease in him, a jumpiness, that he just knew wouldn't settle before Louis had returned home.

Somehow the man's presence meant safety in a way that not even the presence of the muscular warrioress could, not even after seeing that she was capable of  _defeating_ Louis. But there was just something about the man that spoke of a danger far greater than Sigyn could represent, an aura that – as paradox as it sounded - made him  _relax_ , made him believe that nothing could harm him. It was something he hadn't felt since realizing that his mother could barely care less for him.

Under this circumstances - with the guest's visit still sticking in his bones, and the hour of barely daring to breath in Louis' office - who would deny his right to jump up the moment Sigyn announced Louis was back. He didn't even question her words, just slammed the tailgate close and demanded to go over immediately, too relieved and nervous to even remember that he was still somewhat cowed by her presence.

It was anyone's guess what he might have done had Sigyn denied him that right, for she only nodded, discarded her tools on the bench and removed her stain-covered apron. Hastily Tony followed suit, stripping his overall as if it was on fire and threw it at the rack like a four-year-old promised an ice.

The woman didn't comment, instead walked up to the door, Tony always two steps ahead of her.

It took them barely half the time to the main house they needed normally, even though they had to walk over slippery new snow and ice. Sigyn even had to catch him twice when he lost his balance, but she did so without any comment, just steadied him with a hand on his shoulder and made sure that he was uninjured.

In the end they arrived shortly after Louis, Tony wrenching the the door open just as Louis took off his jacket and put it on the rack. A part - a very,  _very_ small part of Tony's brain wondered where he had gotten it; he had left dressed fully in leather after all. He was even registering how good he looked, in the black skinny jeans and blue-and-white poloshirt, and that there was a tight expression on his face, but most of him ... most of him just saw  _Louis_ , and urged him on with a need that he had never felt before, urged him on into that man's arms.

He had barely enough working braincells left to come to a stumbling stop a few centimeters in front of Louis, his body a shivering mess swaying into the other's touch, his eyes glued to his concerned face. He really  _really_ wanted to touch him,  _be touched by him_ ; but something was holding him back, even though he didn't know  _why_ . Couldn't really work out why he shouldn't throw himself in the other's embrace, beg to be held.

It didn't matter in the end, for Louis reached out for him, his hand grasping his neck and pulling him in until Tony's forehead rested against his chest, the other hand lying warm and heavy on his back. He resisted for barely a moment, stood stiff and awkward, until he gave up, gave  _in_ , and melted into Louis' body, molding himself against him like clay, almost trying to climb into the other.

He wasn't sure what happened for a long, very long time afterward. He only knew the feeling of Louis' skin under him, warm and dense and  _there_ , hardened muscles and smooth flesh and calluses digging into his body. There was a heartbeat right under his ear, slow and strong and nothing like Tony's own, filling his ears and mind until he could switch his brain off and just succumb to what his senses were telling him.

Louis' wintery scent filled his nose, fresh and yet not  _cold_ , and he breathed it in until it seemed as if his body, his every pore was filled by him. His closed eyes couldn't see Louis, but that didn't matter. He was kept close, arms had come up around him, held him against a chest that moved steadily with deep, steady breaths. It was a slow, stable rhythm, and Tony found his own breathing slow to match it, found his heart rate decreasing ... found himself settle under the other's care.

Only then did he feel the hand on his back rubbing soothing circles on his skin, the other still on his neck, keeping him close in a completely unapologetic possessive grip that flooded him with heat, made his own hands come up and fist the shirt tightly. He was pulled closer in response, realized the low sound he could hear beyond the beat of Louis' heart was a low, maybe meaningless murmuring above him. It reminded him sharply of the last time this had happened, of the memory of that girl in the papers and of what had happened to him,  _before Louis._

And of having Louis' promises, and possessiveness, and maybe even his  _affection_ as reassurance that it wouldn't ever happen to him again.

Slowly, hesitatingly - he didn't really want it, but some part of him was still a bit embarrassed about being grown-up and still almost running to another man to bury himself against him - he pushed against Louis' chest and felt how he was immediately, though obviously reluctantly, released.

"Are you feeling better?", Louis asked, looking down at him with worry written all over his face.

And Tony liked that. Liked that he didn't ask "Are you okay?", because, really, he couldn't be okay, or he wouldn't have done this. Liked that he asked anyway, made sure that Tony  _knew_ that he had  _noticed_ . But on the other side ... well, Tony had always been a contrary creature, and the care made something in him roar up and say  _I'm not a damsel in distress to be looked after!_

In the end his contradicting emotions boiled down to a flush in his cheeks and an ashamed "I shouldn't have ..." with his hand rubbing over his temples.

He didn't entangle himself from Louis' embrace, though, drawing still far too much comfort from his strength.

Louis just looked down at him, a small sad smile betraying his emotions. "You shouldn't have - what? Not been left alone when you had been through an ordeal like your's shortly before? Shouldn't have had to face someone intruding into your secure haven without a warrior to defend you, should the worst happen? Shouldn't have had to wait  _hours_ for me to come home?" His eyes had taken on an even more serious expression, and when he now looked down into Tony's wide open ones there was no mistaking that he was absolutely serious. "Anthony, sweetness, there is  _nothing_ you have to be ashamed of. I, however, have to apologize for leaving you without proper protection, and not returning immediately upon learning of your distress. It was necessary, I ... had to think a lot about today, but ... I should have been here for you."

And he seemed to be absolutely, frighteningly honest. Seemed to truly think that  _Tony's_ wellbeing was more important than his own state of mind.

And that ... that was truly scary. Tony had had good acquaintances that hadn't cared even close to this much about him, had had  _friends_ thinking the same way, and here Louis was, knowing him for barely a week and yet already investing so much emotion into him ... it made him feel in a way he didn't exactly want to examine too closely.

So he chose a method that always worked when he didn't know what to do - he deflected. "Hey, I'm okay. I ... you had something to do and -" Why was he thinking about Louis' promise to buy him something right that moment?

Well, from his slowly spreading grin Louis was thinking of the same thing too, at least. "So, you want your gift?" A hand stroked down his cheek, scratching slightly over his stubble. "Don't worry, I didn't forget it."

He ... didn't? Did that mean he had  _actually_ bought Tony a  _band-shirt_ ? Did he actually ... it boggled his mind a bit to try to imagine the elegantly clad business man in a shop that would sell Tony's most beloved shirts, but then it wasn't as easy to imagine Tony Stark doing so, either, and he had been there - though in jeans and simple shirts that made him look far more normal than Louis who would probably look like a model in a jute bag.

But before Tony could say anything Loki's grip tightened slightly - not enough to hurt, not even enough to deter him should he decide to wrench his head away, but certainly enough to get his attention.

He felt himself grow still as Loki's expression became graver again. "And, Anthony? If you don't want to speak about something, do  _say_ so. There is no need to try to change the topic, or distract me. Do you understand?"

Slowly Tony nodded, feeling confused and a bit worried. Did Louis know how difficult that was? Admitting weakness? Because where things like shuddering away from raised voices and submitting to another's will were traits he had developed within the last five months, voicing his true thoughts and feelings to someone else was a whole other matter. He had  _always_ used this to protect himself, to protect his core, his self from the world, and he couldn't just unlearn that.

Couldn't just forget that Stark-men were made of iron.

Swallowing uneasily he nodded again and then looked up into Louis' eyes. The man obviously knew that not all was right, but he didn't comment on it. Instead he now turned to Sigyn, leaning into her personal space and pressed a kiss to her cheek.

Tony stared. Of course, he had suspected that they had been lovers, once, but he had never seen them act like it. Nor had he heard such soft, reassuring words as Louis now spoke.

"You see? I'm back, whole and hail, and better for the time I spent alone with my thoughts."

Maybe someone else wouldn't have noticed it, but Tony himself had too often been alone with his thoughts, too, and he knew fully well how that had gone. Louis mentioning this directly could only mean that there had been times like this for him, too. And even if he didn't know this from first-hand experience, the twitch in Sigyn's body, the serious look in her eyes was enough to show that she had been  _concerned_ .

But he couldn't dwell on these thoughts for Louis turned back to him and indicated he should follow him up the stairs, nipping any arguments the warrioress might want to throw at him.

Instead he fully focused on Tony. "I fear I've cut it pretty close with coming back, so I guess it will be better when I show you into the living room", he said, climbing up the stairs alongside Tony. His hand brushed over Tony's back, making him instinctively bow his back and seek the warmth. Even without looking Tony could sense the momentary stumble in the other's walk, before he continued, his eyes trained on him feeling like laser pointers.

Then the hand returned, warm and reassuring and  _safe_ , and Tony couldn't even feel embarrassed anymore at how much he wanted to purr - couldn't, not when Loki made a low noise of contentment himself.

Tony's hands were still black and greasy from the motor oil. A fact he was reminded of when Louis gently pushed him into the bathroom, closing the door behind him just enough that Tony had some privacy, but could still see Louis standing out there.

And why was this such a comfort? Three days ago this same door,  _closed_ , had made him break down in tears. Now he took comfort in the fact that he could see Louis standing there.

Sighing he filed it away under  _'feelings and actions to do with one Louis de St.Marin that I don't want to think about'_ and turned to the basin. The mirror over it showed him that he had more to wash than just his hands - there were black greases all over his fore head and temples and even in his hair. Not to mention the tear tracks down his cheeks, and his red puffy eyes, and the creases were the wrinkles of Louis' shirt had pressed against his skin.

A part of him wanted to laugh hysterically - he hadn't been that bad off after three months captivity in Afghanistan, or five months of sexual slavery, but  _one damned day_ without Louis brought him so low - but the rest of him just ... sighed. Because he looked like shit, and Louis had still kept him close, had pressed him to himself - fuck, he had to have left black spots on Louis' shirt, too - and hadn't even mentioned it.

Slowly he opened the tap, stared as the clear cold water ran over his dirty hands, rinsed the dirt away.

It felt somewhat symbolic: like the water took the dirt, Louis' presence took his fear. Fear of loneliness, of abandonment, of ... of losing himself.

And again this question - how had Louis managed this? Managed what not even the Avengers with their loyalty and friendship, or even Pepper and Rhodey, could do: take the fear from him that he would be left behind. That he wouldn't be cared about.

Because whatever else he had feared - in that hour alone in Louis' office he hadn't thought  _even once_ that the man wouldn't care about him. Had always known beyond doubt that there would be hell to pay should he be harmed.

  
  


  
  


  
  


  
  


  
  


  
  


 


	68. Making Anthony smile

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki's POV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to [evilwitch66](http://archiveofourown.org/users/evilwitch66) for beta-reading.

It was humbling, really, when Anthony came stumbling to him the moment he had entered the house. He was cold, and greasy from the machines he had been working with, and there was a desperation to him that reminded Loki uncomfortably of falling through the empty light-less void. Still, no matter the grease stains on his clothes or the snot ruining his shirt, he wasn't thinking even  _once_ of  _not_ pulling his Anthony close. Not when he was in such a state, forlorn and distraught and searching for comfort. Not when he was seeking this comfort  _from him_ , something that Loki had experienced so very rarely in his long life, and that gave him a measure of comfort as well, made him feel warm and strong and lovable, too.

Something that he felt almost guilty about. This frightened, shivering creature that was buried in his chest was that scared because of  _him_ , because he had lacked in protecting him. And now all he could do was keep him close,  _closer_ , in a warm and tight possessive grip, could only murmur reassurances to him that he wasn't even sure the man heard. But he felt the response, couldn't miss it when Anthony grabbed his shirt, made sure in return that Loki couldn't leave, and there wasn't anything that Loki wanted to do more than make sure that the man knew where he belonged.

And so he kept him close, his grip just gently enough to not bruise – or maybe nor, but neither of them cared. He kept his Anthony close enough that he could smell the grease and the shampoo, the sweat and fear an d underneath it all  _Anthony_ himself. Close enough that his heart beat reverberated against Loki's skin, that he could know he was here even when his own voice drowned that beat, almost drowned the desperate and relieved almost-sobs escaping his throat.

It felt almost like loss when Anthony eventually disentangled himself from him, but the way he stayed close, even leaned into Loki's arm where it was still laid around his waist showed that he wasn't  _fleeing_ from him. Wasn't having second thoughts about what had just happened.

A small happy smile played around Loki's lips, but it disappeared when he saw the distress in his Anthony's face still making him look sad and ... angry? At Loki?

Guilt had him swallowing  heavily. " Are you feeling better?", he asked, hoping to understand what ailed his sweet.

He certainly hadn't expected for Anthony to flush and hide his face in his hands, leaving new smudges all over his already blemished skin. Hadn't expected for him to be angry at  _himself_ ,  _his reaction_ , but he most certainly was, or how else was Loki to interpret the groaned "Oh fuck, I shouldn't have ..."

And this most certainly didn't do! Feeling how his eyes grew harder with his own guilt and anger, Loki used his emotions to make his voice serious and insistent: "You shouldn't have -  _what?_ Not been left alone when you had been through an ordeal like yours shortly before? Shouldn't have had to face someone intruding into your secure haven without a warrior to defend you in the worst case? Shouldn't have had to wait  _hours_ for me to come home?" Speaking it aloud made him just feel even more guilty. Got him to realize even more how much he had put himself first when his first responsibility should have been his Anthony.

Swallowing the shame down he found Anthony's big astonished eyes and held them with his own, trying to convey how absolutely serious he was. "Anthony, sweet, there is  _nothing_ you have to be ashamed of." And he did so hope that Anthony believed it. At least his widened eyes showed that he understood that Loki meant what he said. " _I_ , however, have to apologize for leaving you without proper protection, and not returning immediately upon learning of your distress. It was necessary, I ... had to think a lot about today, but ... I should have been here for you."

Maybe he had been a bit too insistent, for his little pet looked now almost spooked; his beautiful brown eyes big and round, his mouth opened on a small unvoiced sound. The surprise was written into his body language so plainly that Loki couldn't overlook it even had he not known it to be there. Anthony probably wasn't used to anyone caring this much about him if what Loki knew was true.

And yes, there came an almost desperate spark to his eyes, and a forced smile curled his lips in a wry smile. "Hey, I'm okay. I ... you had something to do and -" His eyes darted around, desperately searching for something,  _anything_ , to change the topic.

Loki knew he shouldn't encourage Anthony attempts to undermine his own self-worth, but there was a helplessness in his features that couldn't be good, so he pretended to misunderstand the other's searching eyes and asked, an easy grin forced onto his lips: "So, you want your gift?" The man's eyes lit up at that, in thankful both for the distraction as well as in surprise that  _yes_ , Loki had thought of it. As if he could have forgotten to get his little pet his small request. (He conveniently ignored that he had been almost ready to do so when he had seen one of that hellish places where he could find some of those …  _clothes_ ). Stroking his sweet's cheek and jaw with gentle fingers he continued: "Don't worry, I didn't forget it."

And the smile on Anthony's face was certainly worth what he had to go through. Relief, surprise and genuine joy mixing in his face to make it radiant enough to rival even Asgard's sun.

After what he had to endure to get Anthony his favorite shirts that was a balm on his agonized music taste.

Really ... it had started with him staring at the shop with a mixture of horror and disbelieve. Should he truly enter this hellhole of bad taste? Should he honestly dare to catch himself a bad case of bobblehead-elvis, pseudo-guitar, or an earworm a la noise-meets-racket?

In the end it had been the fact that Anthony had asked for it that had convinced him to set a foot into that ... establishment - not without changing his clothes to jeans and shirt, and hiding his identity behind a magical veil. He would never live it down should one of his better adjusted acquaintances see him entering  _that_ .

He had still looked a bit out of place - something he had actually encouraged, because blending in as he would usually do wouldn't have had the salesman come to him and help him find what he searched for. Though the assistant should be  _very_ grateful that Loki had forsaken his life as a villain, because otherwise he might have learned how a villain reacted to be treated like a dumb idiot.

But, well, he had gotten what he needed and could now only hope that it met with Anthony's approval.

Still, as much as he liked that his pet wasn't as tense anymore there was one thing that they should set straight between them. Tightening his grip on the other's face the smallest bit he said: "And, Anthony? If you don't want to speak about something, do say so. There is no need to try to change the topic, or distract me. Do you understand?"

Did Anthony know how telling the emotions playing over his face actually were? Loki felt himself thrown back into a childhood in which he had to hide his feelings about taunts and insults by his peers in training classes. About his brother, open and honest and genuine Thor, telling him he should come out of his shell. About Balder worrying that he was too introverted, wasn't making enough friends; it had taken even his  _oldest_ brother a long time to understand that Loki's friends were mostly female, and that he had made them in a girl's guise.

Still, it was important for Loki to know about Anthony's feelings. Even more so, it was important for  _Anthony_ to know that his feelings  _were_ _important_ , would be respected.

But the uneasy nod, the shy looking up to meet Loki's eyes was a start, and so he gifted him with a smile and let him go. Let him sort out his feelings on the matter while he attended to his other loved-one waiting for him.

Sigyn smiled at him indulgently, already used to his favoritism of the human. And he really should have known that something was strange  _before_ Idun and Amora had pointed it out, shouldn't he? After all, even when it came to Jean and Mary, humans he had cared about for longer and had never felt resentment for, he had always favored his companion through puberty and adulthood, one of only three beings in this whole universe who had  _always_ stood by him and Angrboda.

But  _Anthony_ ... Anthony had managed to wiggle under his skin. In only a week he had come into his house and turned all of Loki's expectations around. Had changed what had been his goal for a while now. Had changed his heart, until he couldn't imagine anymore to hurt those he had planned to torture for three years now - a timespan that was almost nothing for someone with his life expectancy, yet ... the intensity of his hate against them had dissipated, just because of that one human looking at him with  _trust_ and  _awe_ and  _hope_ .

Maybe it was as much to give himself room as Anthony when he leaned in to hug and kiss Sigyn - chastely on the cheek, of course. They were no lovers, not anymore, and Sigyn was married and mother of two wonderful children. And yes, maybe he pressed against her too much, too hard, too intimately, but then what else was he to do to protect himself against the sudden onslaught of memory - memories of Anthony hugging him, pressing himself against Loki's body as if it was the last anchor he had.

Loki's body had liked it. _A lot._

His  _magic_ had liked it.

Swallowing these thoughts down he forced an easy smile on his face and said, hoping Sygin wouldn't notice his distress. Or his reaction somewhere southwards: "You see? I'm back, whole and hail, and better for the time I spent alone with my thoughts."

Who was he kidding - of course she knew something was wrong. He really was better at lying than this.

And what kind of person would have his friends worrying about his health by lying badly? What would  _Asgard_ think about such a person?

Ignoring that thought - remnant of a childhood in Asgard spent trying to earn their respect - he turned to Anthony, smiling invitingly and indicating that he should follow him up the stairs.

"I fear I've cut it pretty close with coming back, so I guess it will be better when I show you into the living room", he said and found himself giddy with joy when Anthony took it as invitation to step up to his side.

Maybe that was the reason that his hand escaped his control and brushed over his pet's back. Immediately he took it back, fearing the other might take this unwanted attention, unwanted touch, badly.

Oh, but how surprised was he to feel Anthony's back bow, seeking out his hand! It made him stumble, almost loose his balance, and only his quick reflexes kept him on his feet.

Anthony noticed, of course he did, but only kept going as if nothing was wrong, something that Loki was only too happy to copy. And when he put his hand back, settled it protectively and possessively as he felt about this man, he just enjoyed how Anthony let himself fall against the touch.

They went past the bathroom door and Loki realized they had to wash their hands. Eying Anthony's he noticed that it would take longer for him, not to mention that he might need to take a leak before going further - what with how scared he had been he probably hadn't gone to the loo as often as he needed, if at all.

Still, with the way he hovered close to him Loki wasn't sure whether it would be a good idea to shut the door. So he pushed it just enough to leave a small slit, and when Anthony didn't protest he left it this way.

When he heard Anthony finishing he pushed the door open just in time to see him close the button of his jeans. Smiling reassuringly at the startled face he went over to the sink himself and cleaned his hands. He would feed his pet again today, and he didn't want to risk harming him through not getting rid of all the bacteria.

After that they went to the living room, and Anthony sat down close to him, his body warm against his legs, his head a welcome weight in Loki's lap. It wasn't sexual, not in the least, despite the reaction Loki's body had had only a few minutes prior. And yet it was intimate in a way he could not describe. The warmth, the closeness, the trust and hope and adoration - a life given into his hands, like a bird with broken pinion, helpless and yet not struggling. Waiting to find his wings again, to learn to fly again.

Smiling he bore the weight - no hardship, not for someone with his kind of strength, not when it was Anthony - and let his hand wander down, let his fingers play with the hair falling over his thighs. Enjoyed the low hum of contentment the man released in reply.

They sat like this for a while. Long enough that they both settled down again, and yes, even if it was just to himself but Loki could admit that he needed the way Anthony drew near him at least as much as Anthony seemed to need him. Needed the trust that he showed - a trust that so few had in him. Not only that he wouldn't betray him, but also that he was capable of keeping him safe.

And then there was the way his magic reacted. Sitting here in peace he sank down in a slight trance, and could now see what Amora had seen before: his magic, which had always been capricious at best, even when he was near Thor, even when he was working it, was now floating in a sedate way like a river that had weathered its early fast stage and was flowing in a wide streambed.

Magic had no color, no taste, no smell. Not in it's natural state, before it was absorbed into someone, taking on hues of that person, of that personality. And so Loki's magic had always been green or gold, always depending on whether it was used for purposes more alike with an Aesir's goal, or if it was something  _purely_ _Loki_ . But this was only the most obvious clue. For those who had felt it on their skin could report that it was cool - not  _cold_ , but certainly cooler than even a human's body. Cool as a spring wind, or rather like cool silk, for that was what they said - _"your magic feels like your hair stroking my skin."_ Then there was the smell, the smell of conifers in a winter forest. The taste of fire on your tongue. The whisper of a dagger pulled out before it's thrown.

Loki's magic was dangerous, but it was also beautiful. And it was even more so now, content and happy to be curled around him and Anthony. Like a sated panther taking a nap up in a shadowing tree, his tail flipping casually, just enough so that one knew him to be in a pleasant mood.

Loki could have stayed like this for the rest of the evening, but obviously Tony Stark's restless personality was returning. Lifting his head from Loki's lap he looked up, obviously unsure whether he was allowed to disturb Loki.

Sighing Loki pulled himself back into himself and felt his lips quirk in a small but very honest smile. "You have a really impatient nature, little minx", he said, and oh, how he adored the blush in Anthony's face at the affectionate words. Grinning he stroked along one pink cheek. "Don't worry, I find that very adorable."

And his blush deepened, but Loki was happy to see him holding his eyes. Taking a deep breath he asked: "And ...  _can_ I? See what you brought me?"

Pleasant surprise had Loki smiling. "How could I deny you anything?", he asked, and he very much liked how Anthony smiled and relaxed at that.

Pulling his bag out of the pocket dimension he kept things in he saw how Anthony perked up. His eyes went wide, and there was that glint of curiosity in them that told Loki that his sweet pet had taken the back seat to the  _scientist_ . A scientist who very obviously wanted nothing more than to examine and  _understand_ where Loki had pulled his bag from.

"Another time", he found himself promising, and Anthony's eyes went up to his, a question standing in them.

Swallowing Loki clarified: "I will explain it to you, if you want, but ... another time. It will take time, because we'll have to cover the basics of magic first."

The way the other nodded, the way his eyes were happy and awed told Loki that whatever he had bought wouldn't be enough to top this promise.

Not that it wasn't coming close.

Anthony liked the shirts and trousers he had bought in the city, and got big round eyes about the clothes he bought in Asgard. Even with  _that_ pair of leather trousers kept away from him - why had he bought it, anyway? He knew full well that Anthony wouldn't be able to change into them without being reminded of those weeks spend without proper care - they were unusual. Kinky, to a human's eyes, though leather and metal and elaborate decorations were just normal to each Aesir.

And at the first hint of one of those ... band shirts Anthony's eyes went even wider, and he became excited, almost ecstatic when Loki pulled another out, and another. And the two hoodies. And the jacket, and the pullover, and the other two long-arm shirts..

Well, no-one could say he was doing things half-way.

The other clothes had met with enthusiastic approval, but it was so very obvious that Anthony preferred the fan articles. And since he was looking good in them, too - Loki found himself thinking that Anthony would look delicious in  _everything_ \- he saw no reason to discourage him from wearing them. Not when he enjoyed it so obviously.

Grinning he watched as Anthony changed into one of the jeans - a model that was far more comfortable than anything magic could produce, and yes, he was looking delectable in them. Even though he changed into one of the hoodies, too.

Seeing him hide in it - almost though probably unconsciously trying to disappear in it - Loki felt torn between the wish to take this hideout from him, and to be happy that he had it.

He wished Anthony could be comfortable with him just the way he was, without anything to hide behind ... but then he was relaxed in his presence, wasn't he? Even more, he sought him out, actually hid buried in his arms, and that was something precious, too. Something he wouldn't miss for anything in the world.

So he just smiled and looked at the man. His eyes were sparkling, his cheeks pink from excitement, and his features so alive that he could barely see the broken man from less than two weeks before in him. Loki felt how his own eyes became soft and his smile even wider, and when Anthony was done spinning around, when he came to him. When he let Loki brush his hair and tie it back. When he sat there next to him, bouncing up and down, and taking the offered meal with all the excitement of a young puppy. When he watched a movie with him and then at last fell asleep with his head in Loki's lap - then Loki felt like he was the luckiest person alive.

  
  


 

 


	69. Breakfast surprises

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so very sorry this took me so long ... I'm participating in this year's FrostIronBang, and the story swallowed up all my free time (and the rest, too, I fear ^^'). There will be much more regular updates again once I've finished that giant.
> 
> Thank you very much for sticking with me, and for all your lovely comments. I'm sorry for not having answered them yet (though I will), but I've read every one of them and they really made me want to come back to this story.
> 
> Many thanks, again, to evilwitch66, for beta-reading.

_Waking up_ … waking up was some pretty woman or man occupying his bed, not-yet cleaned-off fluids sticking to his skin, feeling to hot and used and not enough sleep. It was Jarvis starting the coffee drip so he wouldn't have to bother with anything more complicated than using the toilet before he really woke up. If he was really lucky he hadn't needed the company of someone to go to sleep and would wake up with his head on some lab table, the metal edge digging in his side and imprints of whatever he'd been working on in his cheeks and forehead. 

Lately he'd been very lucky, what with waking next to Pepper whenever she wasn't gone on Stark Industry business. That were the good days – days when he felt his lips quirk in a smile as soon as he saw her, or heard her breathing, or simply felt her hand laying on his hip ( now that he was thinking about it – Pepper had a possessive streak that could compete with Louis).

It was different – so very much different – waking up with Louis.

He actually got enough sleep with his ever-concerned master, his body rested and comfortable and his joints never hurt from sleep deprivation. The blanket folded around him somehow never tangling with his limbs, just kept him warm and safe like a hug from someone he really truly trusted.

And then waking up not to sticky skin and Jarvis hopelessly energetically telling him about his schedule for the day, but to Louis telling him teasingly that the sun was up and breakfast would be served without him should he continue sleeping, and it was  _amazing_ . 

When he opened his eyes he saw the soft smile in the other's face that spread even further upon seeing that he was awake, and he caught himself returning it with a grin that was cocky and sure and showed not the least doubt that Louis only teased him about withholding breakfast. A hand stroked over his cheek, the motion gentle and loving, and he leaned into the caress like a cat being petted, not caring the least that it was undignified and a not-Stark-thing. 

He felt content for once, that gentle soft feeling that other people had often told him about and that he'd so rarely experienced glimpses of for himself, like living in a bubble of time where nothing bad could happen to him. The soft dawn light from outside, the silence and the warmth surrounding him only served to sustain that image, made him wish he could live in this moment forever like some princess in a cheesy romance novel.

Of course it had to end. You couldn't mention food in the vicinity of Tony Stark's empty stomach without said stomach complaining.

Vociferously.

His eyes going wide even while Louis started to laugh – a soft, startled thing that had Tony hide his face but didn't hurt him – he tried to get his dignity back. “Breakfast?”, he asked, the warmth in his face indicating that he was blushing furiously. He only hoped the other would allow him to evade this embarrassment.

“Of course”, he said, still smiling by the tone in his voice. “Can't have my pet go hungry. Come, let's hurry to the bathroom, then we can pitch into whatever Jean has prepared for us.”

And they hurried indeed, only brushing their teeth and splashing a bit of water in their faces – it wasn't as if either of them had done something to get dirty.

And then they made for the walk-in closet and that was … that was simply  _amazing_ . Tony had never before thought about it, but being able to choose what he wanted to wear for the day from a  _whole fucking array of shelves_ filled  _to the brim_ with only the finest clothing? That was so  _fucking good_ that Tony actually had to swallow thickly around a thick lump closing up his throat. Tears burned in his eyes and he had to blink fast to make them go away.

At least Louis was tactful enough not to mention it, simply turned a thoughtful eye to his own clothes and seemed to be unable to choose between a black and a blue jeans. Gratefully Tony slipped in a pair of leather trousers that fitted as if they were made for him. He sighed softly and stroked with a hand down the leg; even the best made clothes were stiff upon first wearing them, but not these. No, these were as soft as his own well-loved jeans at home. Some trick of the golden sky-kingdom, probably; not that he would complain.

As top he chose the Iron Maiden hoodie he'd already worn yesterday. It was noticeably not of the same quality, but ... fuck it, it made him feel so much  _safer_ . Not that he would complain about wearing clothes that fitted him, but … it felt good to wear something that wasn't looking like being painted on.

A part of him knew that this was his reaction to having been ... raped, that it also was a comparatively small one. Which might have something to do with the way Louis had treated him over the course of the last week - had kept him naked, yes, but not once touched him in a way that he didn't like, nor ever looked at him in a suggestive way. Had accepted his boundaries and never once overstepped them, not with his eyes and even less with his hands. 

Wouldn't do that. Had made damn sure that Tony  _knew_ he had no reason to fear that.

But  _ knowing _ something and  _ act _ _ ing upon it _ had never felt more difficult.

Still, it felt  _ safe _ , and comfortable, following Louis down the stairs for breakfast. Familiar enough that he could let his thoughts slip, could let go of the memories, cold like the gooseflesh on his arms and heavy as lead in his stomach, in the steady beat of Louis' feet on the floor and his smile when he looked at him.

Maybe it was this strange feeling that prompted him to think back to his first day here. Back to when he ha d followed Louis more because of the promise of a meal than out of ... yes, what? Trust? Because it was what was done? Because it was  _normal_ ?

He was still pondering that when they turned up in the kitchen and sat down to what Tony would have called lunch hadn't he had Japanese breakfast before.

"Rice?", he asked anyway, too surprised to stay silent.

Jean put another bowl on the table and grinned. "It's the only thing he tolerates after he's been to Asgard. I mean bread and jam work, too, but he complains all the time about it and …” He shrugged and pulled a grimace, showing how much he liked to deal with a grumpy Louis. “Hope you like rice - that's what we're going to have for lunch and probably dinner, too. Rice and a lot of vegetables, and all cooked in the most difficult ways." Pulling another grimace, this one entirely fake, he leaned a bit over and added in a loud whisper that Louis couldn't  _not_ hear: "I'm actually surprised he tolerated the fish yesterday."

Snorting Louis leaned over and grabbed his ear, pulling him out of Tony's space by it. "I'm not  _that_ bad."

"Yeah?” Jean grinned at him, not at all cowed by being treated like an unruly kid. “Well, must have been a good visit, then. Without anyone expecting you to eat something." Flicking lightly against the fingers holding his ear prisoner he added: “And you might want to let me go or I can't get the rest of the bowls. And I guess you don't want your tamagoyaki to get cold, do you?”

Louis rolled his eyes but let him go and Jean grinned up at him, entirely unrepentant, before finishing setting the table.

Sigyn chuckled. Leaning back in her chair she observed: "He's right, you know? You're always moody when you had to pass one of his or your own meals for Asgard's finest.”

Jean put a plate with rolled up omelet on the table, cut in finger-thick parts. It smelled as good as the one Tony had tasted when he went over to talk with their Japanese trade partners, and that had been some of the most awesome breakfast he'd ever had.

Also probably the only time since he left Jarvis' care that he'd ever eaten breakfast regularly for at least a week.

Mary laughed quietly under her breath, smiling at Sigyn in that way that women somehow got around men. “Guess there's a lot of truth in saying that men are in a bad mood without a good meal to fill their stomach."

Louis shifted beside him, the hand that had already reached out for t he  ** Tamagoyaki ** freezing, and stared at her for a moment, his head tilted to the side. A moment longer, then his lips curved up in a wide, mischievous smile,  and suddenly his form blurred, morphed, until there was suddenly a woman sitting in his chair.

Shock raced through Tony like an ice-cold wave, and it took all of his self-control to not cry, not jump up and  _away_ . His breathing hitched against his clenched teeth. This woman … it wasn't that she was beautiful beyond compare - she  _was_ beautiful, but her lips were too thin, her features too sharp, her neck too strong - but it was that she was ... that she was  _not Louis._ Her whole pose had changed to accommodate a different center of gravity, her chest was pushed forward to display her breasts, and there were thousand more small changes that he couldn't pinpoint but that all in all made him sure of one thing -  _this was not Louis._

And yes, he  _knew_ , logically, that it  _was_ . He had seen him change into his original blue form, had witnessed just now the change into this form. Could see the smile and laughter, the ease with which Jean and Sigyn and Mary acted towards her, but somehow ... somehow his heart, his  _being_ , couldn't comprehend it. Couldn't own it.

He heard them continue to talk, heard them laugh, but there was only one emotion in him - that Louis  _wasn't here_ anymore, that he had  _abandoned_ him, that  _he_ _wasn't worth_ -

"Please", he somehow managed to croak out. "Come back ..."

His vision was somewhat blurred, like his hearing, but he could still see that the woman-that-had-been-Louis startled and turned to him, looking confused. "Anthony ..?", she asked, reaching out with a hand to touch him -

He shrunk back, a helpless whine escaped his throat. He didn't want a stranger's hand on him, he wanted " _Louis_ ", he managed. " _Please_ ..."

Something changed in her face, and then it _was Louis_ there,  _Louis_ who held out  _his_ hand for him, and Tony threw himself forward to bury his face against  _his_ chest. A sob escaped him, and he felt his eyes burn with unshed tears. Louis' hand came around, rubbing circles on his back. His sweet voice whispering to him that he was here, promising that he wouldn't leave him.

It didn't take long for him to calm down - the shock had been great, yes, but not long enough to really build up, and the room it vacated was quickly taken up by embarrassment that colored his cheeks bright red yet  _again_

_Fuck_ , he had reacted like a kid who couldn't identify his mother anymore because she had put on some wig or costume. As if he wasn't old and smart enough to know that Louis  _was_ Louis, whatever form he took. "Sorry", he mumbled, turning his head a bit so he wasn't speaking into the polo-shirt.

"Whatever for?", Louis answered, and Tony could hear him shuffle around so he probably looked down at him.

His cheeks heated up even more. Why did he have to speak it out loud? "For being a dumbass that got scared of some magic", he admitted, and hoped that that sufficed.

Of course that wasn't all. Instead Louis pulled back, then put one hand on each of his cheeks and gently coaxed him to look up. "Don't be", he said, his voice sweet and soft. "You have no reason to be. Actually, you should be proud of yourself."

Tony felt as if he was staring like a fool but ...  _proud_ ? Because he had had a panic attack?  _Again?!_ And over something small like this?!

But Louis' smile wasn't wavering, wasn't turning into a sneer to show he was joking. " _Very_ proud indeed, for voicing your needs. I know that  _I am_ ."

Swallowing Tony tried to look away from those earnest eyes and felt himself being let, though the hands remained still and steadying against his cheeks.

Louis seemed to mean it. Seemed to mean it when he said that Tony speaking up for himself was something to be proud of. "Haven't met someone telling me that before", he mumbled. Usually people thought he was speaking too much already.

"I can imagine", Louis said, and the thumbs resting next to his lips began to slowly rub tiny circles in his skin. "People often underestimate how important that ability is - for the person speaking as well as the person being spoken to. For how else would I know how to help you than when you tell me what you need?"

What he needed ...? Well, what  _was_ it that Tony needed? And would Louis give it to him?

"Can I ... can I see you again? As a woman?", he asked. Because he was curious, and he hadn't seen anything, not really, not through eyes blurred by fear. And he didn't want to freak out a second time should Louis chose that form again.

Still, he couldn't look up into his face. At least not until the fingers pushed a bit under his jaw, encouraged him to lift his head and eyes and lock them with Louis'.

"Of course, my sweet. When you think that you won't be discomforted by it again."

Discomf- Tony found his spirit lightening a bit despite the direness of the situation - Louis obviously was a master of understatements.

Something he certainly knew, for he just returned his grin and waited - waited for Tony to make up his mind.

And Tony did, nodding his readiness. Not that he particularly wanted to - there was a heavy weight sitting in his chest, making it hard to breathe. Nervousness about what would happen.

But he didn't want to be defeated by instincts. By his past ... his tormentors. He  _would_ endure this, and be more himself for it.

Still, it was a bit of a shock to see the familiar form of Louis give way to a female shape.

And yet ... the eyes were still as green, the lips as thin as Louis'. The cheekbones sharp, too sharp for true beauty, but ... it made her look interesting, intelligent, and the small smile that curved her lips and made her eyes twinkle upon whatever she saw in his face gave her an air that would have made the Tony Stark of the past walk over to her, chat her up and take her to bed. A hand came up to stroke a lock of her still black but now even longer and more curly hair behind her ear.

"Wow", Tony whispered, only to blush and duck his head a moment later. "Sorry, I -"

"Are you apologizing for complimenting me?", Louis chuckled, her voice still deeper than most women's, and with the same amused inflection Tony was so used to.

"Erm ... maybe?" He hadn't realized, but Louis was right - this form of his was desirable, but after what he had been through it was not the  _body_ he desired - it was the person within.

Shoving that thought away as too uncomfortable he said: "Thank you. For ... for changing. And going slow. For showing me ..." _that I can be strong, even still._

Louis just smiled, his hands lifting a bit when he returned: "Thank  _you_ , Anthony. For trusting me that much."

Tony looked up into her eyes, green and lively and barely hiding a cruel truth, and he felt the serious honesty of this almost-confession - that Tony trusted her, that Louis wasn't used to it - bear on him like a weight. Desperately searching for an out he remembered that once, long ago, he would just have changed the topic, probably also put a few quips around and maybe even insulted at least half the persons in this room in some way with it. But even with  _Tony Stark_ coming back to him he didn't dare that yet, and so he looked around, trying to find something,  _anything_ to distract Louis ...

He needn't have bothered. A hand laid softly against Tony's cheek Louis said: "Sigyn told me your coffee machine is ready to be tried out?"

Oh. Yeah, that was actually a much better topic. Tony felt his spirits rise and he straightened up, his lips automatically turning up at the corners. "Yep, it is", he said, pride a warmth in his chest. "Do you want to see it? I built it so it can make chocolate, too. And tea." Louis chuckled, but he was looking interested, and anyway, Tony was on a run, he couldn't stop now. "It's much more awesome than any old coffee machine. I mean, it cleans your pot afterwards! And it runs on solar energy. It can even do whipped cream, but you have to fill in the cream beforehand. I've tried it with some powder before, when I built mine in the lab I mean, but it's never the real taste. And Bruce forbid me to put in a fridge to keep fresh cream in it - he thinks it would go stale; as if I hadn't thought about that, too! Anyway ... so, yeah, fresh whipped cream. And real milk. And freshly made caramel - Pepper likes it fresh, you know? Build her a coffee machine for her office for her birthday last year, and it took me two weeks to figure out how to have it make real caramel. Almost burned my lab down with one or two tries. But I thought you might like it, so I built it in here, too. And don't worry, I've solved the problem with the explosions. Wasn't that bad anyway – we only had to re-decorate a room or two after the Other Guy startled and went on a rampage. And ... and it can clean itself!" Tony looked up, suddenly realizing that he had just spoken without full stops or comma, like he would have don- no, like  _Tony Stark_ would have done when speaking about his inventions to his friends.

Slowly looking over to Louis he saw the man smiling, surprised but unmistakably pleased.

Not angry. Not angry at him for talking too much, for stumbling over the words, for scrambling his sentences _at all._

Instead ... "That sounds lovely, my sweet", Louis said. "I think we can try it out for lunch, precious? That way Jean won't have to prepare the coffee himself."

Tony looked up at the man and felt the strange sensation of his muscles relaxing until all his joints felt as loose as jelly, while at the same time some emotion he couldn't name swelled in his chest, made him feel as if he could do  _everything_ .

Why -  _why_ \- had he never met Louis  _before_ ?

  
  


 


	70. Glowing like the sun

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello. I can't really tell you how sorry I am for not updating for so long, but between my PC breaking down and RL stuff I simply didn't have the time. I hope it's not going to happen again (yeah, I know how that sounds: not like me at all).
> 
> As a warning: There's a ... tiny little mention of bestiality in this chapter (towards the end, when Loki remembers his past lovers. Yeah, it's /that/ reference). Just in case you want to skip it.

It was strange to see Anthony so open and vulnerable and yet trusting. Even stranger when he both remembered Tony Stark, proud asshole and cocky son of a bitch, and the man staring at him out of a cage like a wild, scared animal, and also his sweet Anthony, curling up against his legs and smiling. Saw all of them whenever he looked at him and even more so _now_.

Maybe he should have known it would come to this when he had talked to him this morning about the coffee machine, but, well ... he had been far too distracted then by the panic attack the man had suffered only minutes earlier. Had meant the mentioning of this achievement as nothing but a distraction.

He knew that Anthony was first and foremost an engineer and visionary, not a superhero or company owner or playboy. Yet he hadn't understood what it meant in relation to a  mere  coffee  maker – something he had to have built so often that he must be capable of doing so in his sleep. Even more so since Tony Stark was as known for being addicted to coffee as he was for throwing parties and for getting trashed  every now and then. But still, a coffee machine couldn't be that important to him, could it?

He knew better now that he sat at the lunch table, a cup of steaming chocolate in his hands and Anthony sitting at the edge of the chair next to him, his eyes trained on him like a weapon and his muscles straining in the obvious effort to suppress his desire to wiggle like a nervous puppy.

Sweet fumes caressed his nose, and he blinked surprised when he recognized the spices. "Cinnamon? Chili?"

A nervous and yet proud grin spread over Anthony's face, an aborted motion as if he had wanted to hide his face and then decided against it. Instead he looked up, focused on him, and Loki would have done anything to preserve the cautious hope on his face. "That's what you put in your chocolate, yes? I wasn't sure ... Sigyn told me." A pause, then – "Don't you want to try it? Is it ... is it too hot?"

His voice sounded thin and far younger, uncertain, and Loki cursed himself for being the cause of it. Sending a smile over to his sweet he brought the cup up and took a careful sip.

His first impression was ... sweet. Creamy.  _ Hot _ . Exactly as he liked it. Then the tastes exploded on his tongue – the bitter-sweet of the chocolate – rich, high-quality chocolate –, the  sharper sweetness of the cinnamon like a cloud of doves sailing through the tension of a heavy storm. And in-between the lightning-like strike of the chili, burning hot in his mouth.

A moan escaped his throat – how had Anthony managed to find the exact balance that he so loved in his chocolate? How had he managed to make a  _ machine _ that could make his chocolate like this?

Opening his eyes – and when had he closed them? – he swallowed the mouthful of pure decadent ecstasy to look in wonder at Anthony. He was now sitting almost in the air, only the barest part of his bottom still resting on the chair, and his anxiousness made his eyes wide, his skin paler than usual.

A tongue licked quickly, nervously over his lips, then – "You like it?" Breathless, hopeful.

Loki smiled in reassurance, then couldn’t help himself and reached out to cup the other's cheek. "It's absolutely perfect, sweet. I've never had someone prepare my chocolate as wonderfully as this. Thank you for this, my Anthony."

Anthony's whole face lit up like the sun, his skin flushed, his eyes even wider but now filled with pride and a joy so radiant Loki thought he might get blinded by it. The tension that he had been strung on went out of his body, and he sacked back a little, his face turned into Loki's hand until he could touch the corner of the smile that now grazed Anthony's lips.

"I'm glad you like it", Anthony said, and the way his eyes fluttered told a very elaborate story about how much of an understatement that was.

Loki found himself smiling as well at the obvious pleasure his praise had brought Anthony, even through the white-hot fury boiling in his stomach that Anthony even  _ needed _ that praise – no-one should be that dependent upon others to know that they had done well. More than well. And least of all  _ Tony Stark _ , a man who had been able to on-up Loki  on  more than one  occassion .

"He's right", Sigyn said from where she leaned against the counter, a cup of freshly made coffee in her hands. She took another sip of the hot brew before continuing: "This is really one of the best coffees I've ever had."

"Well, I'm actually more impressed that it's not tasting like coffee at all despite the water coming out of the same pipe." Jean shook his head, still staggered. In his hands he cradled a cup of tea, brewed after inserting some fresh leaves and pressing the _TEA_ -button on the machine. From what Loki had gathered from Tony's enthusiastic explanations, the machine had cut the leaves very fine and then pressed water through them like it did with coffee, only to dumb the leaves in the tea afterwards. It was a similar way to how Loki knew to make tea, though he hadn't thought it was practiced on Midgard, were teabags seemed to have triumphed over taste. "And you said it's cleaning itself?"

By now Anthony was pink from all the praise, but his eyes shone in pure joy and he was quick to answer: "Sure. I've ... well, I've always hated that – I mean, you buy  a  machine, and the coffee is tasting fucking great, but despite you regularly flushing it with hot water and taking hours cleaning it and all, after some time it's simply tasting ... it's tasting  _ brrh _ . Green.  S wampy. And ... well, I  _ love _ coffee. I just had to make a machine that's not getting brrh, you understand?"

Maybe it was the eager way Anthony told this, but Loki suddenly had an image in front of his eyes, of an Anthony in his workshop, spending days on creating the perfect coffee machine. Probably despite everyone else telling him to do something more useful, if he went by his own experience, though he hoped that the Avengers were more of a family to Anthony than to deny him his joys.

"Sure", Jean said now. “It’s like going into a five-star restaurant and being served something out of the gutter.”  He shared a grin with Anthony who just added: “Wondering whether restaurant critics even have taste buds.”

Jean took another sip from his tea before he announced: “So, on to the greatest challenge now.” P ut ting another cup under that machine  he pressed the last button, labeled as  _ Mary _ . Loki didn't even have to look over at Anthony to feel the man tense once more – after all, Mary was the ultimate challenge – but Jean was quick to distract him once more. " About the cleaning - th at really sounds great. When we used the espresso machine – well, let's just say, cleaning that thing is a hassle." Anthony and he shared a look of indignation, making Loki wonder when and why his sweet pet – billionaire, unable to cook, not really  self-sustaining when it came to daily life – had had to clean his own coffee machine.

A puzzle for another day, maybe. For now, t he groaning, gurgling and slurping of the machine came to an end, and Jean took the  mug over to Mary. She had been sitting silently at the table throughout their conversation, an almost indulgent look on her face that on anyone else would have kindled  irritation in Loki. With her, it was … somehow endearing.

She had also looked like someone determined to be unimpressed, even with all of them heaping praise on Anthony. Her stoicism lasted exactly as long as it took for her to wrap her hand around the mug. Making a thoroughly surprised face she said: "This is … not hot?"

The smile that played around Anthony's lips was more than a hint of _Tony Stark_ and he tilted his head in arrogance and pleasure – a picture that Loki wholly appreciated. "You're never drinking your coffee as hot as Sigyn or I", he said, and yes, there was more of that smugness in his voice. "So I thought it would be better to not heat the milk before it goes into your cup."

There was more to it, Loki thought. A small amount of milk couldn't cool down a whole cup of boiling hot liquid to a temperature that was okay for a human, least of all Mary. But instead of  asking he watched as keenly as the others as Mary took a tiny sip from her coffee, her forehead marred with a frown that spoke clearly of her suspicion.

And then her eyes suddenly widened, her eyebrows rose in sudden surprise and together with the second, larger sip she took it  revealed  her appreciation even before she  said anything . And Anthony was glowing with this success, his eyes even brighter than before, his back held straight in obvious pride, and it was all Loki could do to hold onto his seat, to not jump up and pull Anthony in and kiss him as he wanted to.

The man was so beautiful in his pride, his self-confidence ... it had been a long time since Loki last saw someone he wanted to own, wanted to ... to  _ love _ , and be  _ loved by _ , as much as he wanted his sweet in this moment, but he knew what he was feeling. In this moment Anthony reminded him more strongly than ever of himself – of the pride he once had in his accomplishments, that he still had in them. Of the way he bathed in attention and hard-won praise, how he wished to be acknowledged for more than just being someone's son, or someone's brother. Wished to be seen for himself.

And he saw how it could be, between them, suddenly. It was a dream, of course, wishful thinking, and yet ... he would make peace with the Avengers anyway, wouldn't he? And it was only logical that he offered them something in exchange for their forgiveness – as much as he could gain it, anyway. So who was to say that he couldn't offer them help when it came to defeating magic, and maybe help when it came to healing? And he would need to work with them to help them build defenses against Thanos anyway. So maybe ... maybe he could stay close to Anthony. Could gain his trust, his affection, his ... his love.

A sudden image returned to him, of sitting in his garden and Anthony pressing his head trustingly, lovingly into his lap. Just that this time, the image changed. Suddenly the man straddled him, his brown eyes sparkling in mischief and love, and he pressed forward ... Loki had to close his eyes halfway against the sun shining through his Anthony's hair, bathing his sweet in a halo as only a dream can, when warm lips ghosted over his. At first almost shy, tentative, then they swept over his in a sudden burst of confidence. A mouth on his, hungry and hot and demanding more, his own lips opening in surprise under the onslaught, letting a tongue slip in and explore, conquer his mouth .... a hungry groan from the man on his lap, hands wrapping around his neck, his shoulders ...

Maybe it was the fact that the hands in his dream were warm on his skin that reminded him of the fact that this was, indeed, a dream. That Anthony was still sitting over there, looking pleased with himself and the world and knew not the least bit about the hard-on Loki was developing.

Which was for the best, really. After what he had been through ... Loki closed his eyes, took some deep breaths to calm himself down. Yes, it seemed he was infatuated with the human, not only feeling a deep affection for him as he had thought before.

He had had lovers before, rather a lot of them to be honest, but only very few had caught his eye for more than a tumble in the sheets, or a few months at most when he had to pass time during a diplomatic mission. And even of those he had kept for months, for years even ... even of those there had  only  ever been three  that made a place for themselves in his heart . 

One was Glod, the Muspelar who had been his  very  first  lover . He was under no delusions about her feelings for him; even if she hadn't had a far shorter lifespan she wouldn't have wanted to keep him. Not the lanky little brother of Thor, stumbling into her in a tavern somewhere abroad and following the well-endowed experienced woman into her personal rooms.

In the end she had entertained herself with him for a few weeks, until  Loki had to leave for home. Maybe the most – and most honest – affection she had shown him in the whole time had been when she had pulled him, teary-eyed and heart-broken, roughly to her chest and told him that he would find a better lover than her without fail.

She hadn't been overly affectionate, or even soft to the boy he once was, but he still kept a special place in his heart as one does for their first love.

Which was certainly the reason he supported her very talented granddaughters in their pursue to become famous  fashioners . Not that it was a bother; the twins were showing promise to become  renowned even beyond Muspelheimar's border.

The second was, of course, Svaldivari, even though it hadn't started that way. No, it really hadn’t. At the start there had only been that strange worker who had helped to build the new defense system of Asgard, a Muspelar called Hrimthurs.  Then o ne night the stranger and that wastrel of Freya's half-brother met in a tavern, drank  more than they could stomach , and the next morning woke up remembering making a bet about Freya's future – or maybe they didn’t remember and Frey was scared enough to go along with whatever Hrimthurs told him. Really, there was a reason Loki had never liked the guy. Anyway, even in Asgard a deal made while inebriated wasn’t binding and no-one could offer another's hand, but Frey was simply too proud to back off and the stranger threatening to kill him did the rest.

Left with the choice of either marrying a stranger or dooming her brother to death Freya had come to him for help. It was still one of his most treasured memories – that Freya, who for all her mixed blood and love of magic was still a true daughter of Asgard and admirer of strength above all, hadn’t gone to Thor, or king Odin. No, she had asked _Loki_ , little sneaky shadow prince, for help. Had openly admitted that she thought him the best choice.

Though Loki doubted that she had foreseen him changing shape into that of a mare and luring  Hrimthurs’ stallion away so the stranger would miss his deadline.

Loki had been willing, though not entirely happy to offer his female virginity to the stallion.  Yet  Svaldivari had proven to be a very careful and attentive lover, wooing the shy and yet daring mare, backing off whenever she seemed too distressed and in the end making love to her as Loki had barely ever known before.

There was a strange attraction between them – the Muspelar stallion and the Aes prince, both strangely out-of-place creatures, far too intelligent for those around them.  A nd so Svaldivari had stayed when  Hrimthurs left, grumbling and threatening and maybe Loki would have felt bad but for the fact that he had bartered  for  someone’s freedom  _ with their brother _ .

The attraction between him and Svaldivari had muted over the years, but never entirely ceased, and they raised Sleipnir together, causing him to become a far more tolerant creature than Aesir normally were. Though still Aes enough that Odin acknowledged him as his grandson, something he had never done with the children Angrboda had born.

She he  had  met some time after dabbling with Sigyn, and he was head over heels for the strange  sorceress from the very first minute. It started with slipping from his bodyguards to spend some time with her, until he  finally  escaped  Asgard and his duties  entirely to spend the remainder of her years with her on Midgard. It hadn't been easy, but he still recalled them as the most wonderful two-hundred years of his life.

Of course, that was the reason thinking of her still felt like someone had ripped his heart out and replaced it with  a nest of icy thorns.

What he felt for Anthony ... it was not  the kind of infatuation he had felt for Glod, or the slow burning fire that still connected him to Svaldivari. But nor was it the firestorm of emotions between him and Angrboda; he and the giant ess had gone back and forth between love and hate and lust and disgust several times a day, emotions running high and often burning each other. There were rarely quiet days as he shared with Anthony, and he hadn't ever missed them, but ... he was a different person now.  Was a parent, an estranged prince, had fought for freedom and loved ones and sometimes against them as well.  He loved these quiet moments now as much as he  had once  loved the almost violent fucking with Angrboda.

A part of Loki knew that his relationship with Anthony had the potential to become as strong, as important and painfully loved as the one between him and his long-lost lover.

It was a deeply disturbing thought. Especially with how much h is heart yearned for it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case you want to know, I actually do have a [tumblr](http://nightalp.tumblr.com/)


	71. I believe I can fly

Tony had never known that being happy could make you feel like you had swallowed a star.

It wasn’t that he hadn’t ever been happy – he knew the warm glow of happiness, even more so now that the number of his friends had increased from Rhodey and Pepper to encompass all the Avengers. And maybe Fury and Phil, on a very good day.

But never before had he felt as if he had swallowed the sun  _ and it kept on shining in him. _ Sending heat threading throughout his whole body until he could feel it warm and tingling in his fingers and toes, rays of light and happiness streaming through him. Every now and then he caught himself rubbing over his chest as if his unconsciousness couldn't quite believe that there was nothing to feel, no sphere filling him up, no source to radiate the warmth.

It was a feeling he had never felt quite like that before. And Tony knew where it came from, knew that it was much more than assembling a coffee machine, more than being proud of his own accomplishment. And there was a part of him that hated the fact that he needed the approval of someone,  _ anyone _ else so much that the pride and wonder in Louis' face made him feel so much better about this. About  _ himself _ . Yet the bigger part of him didn't care, not when he was here, warm and glowing, and the other smiled at him every so often, soft and loving and without any ulterior motive.

Not like Obie.

Shaking his head to get rid of the unbidden thought he turned back to Louis. The man had already finished his lunch, eating only a little as he always did at midday, and was now nursing his second cup of chocolate, his hands folded around the curve of it as if he was chasing the warmth. He was quiet, keeping out of the discussion Sigyn and Mary had about the new Sherlock Holmes series, though he smiled every now and then at whatever Jean chipped in with.

As if he could feel Tony's gaze he turned to face him, his absent smile growing wider and more real when he saw him. "Are you feeling up to going down to the gym yet?"

There was still a star glowing in his chest, a star of warmth and pride and happiness. It wasn’t like last time when he had felt dependent upon it, his life and self-worth coming from feeding its ever hungry demand for more glory, his own heart falling sacrifice to it. No, this time the star was glowing through him, was giving him strength and power and heart. Was lifting him up like his suits did, fast and soaring and so high he felt able to do anything,  _ everything _ .

And then there were eyes on him, gentle and warm,  _ believing in him _ , like the sun only better. Made him feel as if he could do anything.

Even a warrior’s exercise made for a people that humankind once worshiped as gods, stronger and faster and caster of magic. More – right now he felt like proving himself against those gods, even if he knew that he would never win.

"Of course", he said, his own thoughts bringing a wry smile to his lips.

Louis blinked, surprised, and Tony thought he might say something. The dark green eyes caught his and for just a moment he felt like a mosquito caught in a spider’s web, small and helpless against a god’s will. His heart was beating loud in his ear, and tension stretched between them, made the air vibrate like spider’s silk. His breath caught in his chest and he wasn’t sure how to break the silence that had so suddenly descended upon them.

In the end it didn’t matter. Jean let out a loud huff at whatever Mary had said and Sigyn put her knife down at her plate, the sound short and jarring enough to cut through the strange tension.

Louis blinked again, the motion cutting the invisible thread that had connected the two of them, and opened his mouth, but then changed his mind and closed it again. Nodding slowly he pushed his chair back and stood. "Sigyn?"

The warrioress looked up and grinned at him. "So eager to get pounded into the earth?", she teased, shattering any still lingering tension and bringing a slow, daring grin to Louis’ face.

Yet before Louis could answer her challenge Tony heard himself ask: "Can I?"

"Mmh?" Halting in his track Louis turned to him, though he still seemed somewhat distracted. "Can you what, sweet?"

The shock over what he had asked -  _ that _ he had dared to ask - paralyzed Tony's tongue for a long moment before he managed to squeak out: "Fight?"

He ... wasn't sure what to expect. It was laughable, the pure thought he could fight either of them, without his suits -  _ he hadn't thought about his suits for such a long time _ -, only his weak human self. They were  _ gods _ , warriors who had honed their skills to perfection, asnd they could kill or overpower him in five seconds flat, probably faster even, and without his technology there was nothing to stop them from doing so.

Yet neither of them looked as if his request was dumb. Instead there was a light coming up in Sigyn's eyes, making her look like a child on Christmas Eve, or maybe Clint when he planned a prank on someone. And Louis ... Louis smiled such a soft pleased smile that he could have just as well been granted a boon by some almighty king.

"You want to fight?" He came back for Tony, his finger stroking Tony's cheek gentle and sweetly, and all Tony wanted to do was grab that hand and curl around it, cover himself with the pride and lov- _ care _ in Louis' voice. "Of course, my sweet. If you feel up to it."

"You going up against Louis okay?", Sigyn interjected. "Makes it easier for me to help you improve."

Because Sigyn was the teacher here, of course. A teacher willing to take him on as a student, however substandard he was. Swallowing he nodded. "Yeah, sure." His voice was hoarse, and there was a prickling behind his eyes. He swallowed again.

He had lied. He  _ had _ had expectations on how they should react, had expected them - fighters extraordinaire, warriors from the stars with a thousands of years of experience in fighting for their lives - to put him into his place. Tell him he wasn't good enough, that he would just hinder them. And yes, he knew where this was coming from. Knew that neither of the Avengers - not Thor or Steve or Tasha, or even Clint or Sharon - had ever indicated that going up against him in training without his suit was a waste of time.

Fuck Howard. Fuck his therapists, who had made him realize how much Howard had fucked him over.

"Sweet? Where are you going?"

The soft query made him realize that he had just stood there, staring into space. Blushing he looked down at the floor, tried to hide his red cheeks from them. "Sorry, I ... erm ..."

"Slipped back into your mind?" Amusement sparked in Louis' eyes when Tony looked up again, almost hiding the sadness under it. "Well, then come. I'm not going to let you have the time to slip away again."

Maybe it was supposed to be a threat.

Tony was looking forward to it.

  


?¿

  


Of course, by the time they had gone through the First Trial to warm their muscles his  anticipation had been replaced by a hard knot of nerves in his stomach and a face that hopefully didn't look as ghastly white as he feared.

"We don't have to do this, Anthony. Not now, or ever."

Yeah, well. He did look as scared as he felt.

Clenching his hands into tight fists Tony looked up at the man facing him. Wearing his usual casual clothes, with his long hair bound back in a loose knot to show the slight frown on his fore head, he looked harmless and average, just one man like many on the streets of New York. Yet Tony knew, better than most probably, how dangerous an average looking man could be. How easy it was to hide years of training and muscles like steel under loose clothes or a suit, how a deceptive little smile could hide murderous intent or dedication to another’s cause.

And this was not Agent Coulson or Natasha Romanov who were, despite all their training and experience, still human. No, this was an alien. An alien warrior, even, with strength to match Thor and a willingness to use it to win. Tony had seen him throw Sigyn against the walls of this very same room with enough force to make him fear for the plaster.

And yet here he stood, and looking at Louis all he could see were his gentle hands and the concern in his eyes. That very same concern that had him offer Tony a way out of the fight Tony had talked himself into, and that told him now that he had no reason at all to fear Louis. That this man would never intentionally hurt him.

The realization didn't make the fear drop from him, but it loosened his muscles until he didn't feel as wound up anymore. Made him become aware again of the blood rushing through his body, the way his nails dug painfully into his palm, the tingling in his legs. His toes digging into the hard floor.

Slowly he closed his eyes and took a deep breath, felt how his chest expanded around the warm air, and then the loosening in his body once he exhaled again. The sudden relaxation left him swaying a bit, before he found his balance.

When he opened his eyes he saw Louis, outstretched arm falling back to his side. Had he thought Tony close to fainting? Tried to stabilize him?

_ Sorry _ , came to his tongue, but he swallowed it down. He hadn't wanted to worry the other, but Louis had made it clear that he didn't want to hear him apologize again. At least not all the time  _ and how was he to find out when was appropriate and when wasn't? _

"It's okay", he finally said. "I just ..." My body forgot you would never hurt me. Yeah,  _ no _ . "I'm better now. Can we start? Yet, I mean?" 

Because he wanted it. Wanted back that part of him that was a  _ fighter _ , that would never give up. The part that had people describe him as a phoenix rising from ashes. Wanted to feel it in more than a sarcastic quib or another's teeth clenching whenever they saw him.

And maybe Louis understood, for he nodded, a teasing glint coming to his eyes. "Try to make it interesting", he challenged.

The answering grin felt so natural on Tony’s lips. As if he would ever do anything else. As if he would ever fight without wanting to win, even if he had a snowball's chance in hell. "Try to keep up, old man." The star was still there, in his chest, but now it was amusement and challenge and  _ fun _ .

Sigyn laughed, clear and bright and a bit rusty, and Louis blinked in astonishment, a surprised smile tugging at his lips.

Tony lunged for him.

No one had ever said he was a fair fighter. He much rather left that to Steve and Thor and actually  _ won _ .

Yet it seemed Louis wasn't as much of a fair player as Tony had thought Asgard's warriors were raised to be. Somehow he manged to jump back in time, leaving Tony to barely getting a glancing hit in. It set his balance off, enough that he stumbled further, yet muscle memory stepped in, made him evade a blow that might otherwise have hit him directly in his lower back.

A faint smile curved his lips, the strange feeling of being able to fly elevating him again. He was light and fast on his feet, could feel his muscles responding to his every command and his mind working to anticipate his opponent's moves. All his nerves lit up and responding, and he felt so alive as he hadn't in a very long time.

Turning back he saw Louis standing there, mustering him with a smile on his lips.

"You are better than I expected", he admitted, pleasure obvious in his voice.

Tony grinned, and he felt that same exhilaration, that same feeling of being able to do everything, turn it into something fierce and gleeful and proud. "Live and learn."

Laughing out loud Louis sunk back into a fighting position, and then the match was on again.

It was ... strange, to say the least. Louis was, without doubt, the better of them, yet whenever Tony managed to hit him, or kick him, or push his body into him, he never had the feeling that the other was humoring him. Quite the opposite; aside from pulling his punches and kicks and limiting himself to a more human pace Louis seemed to give it his all.

Sudden realization stopped Tony short, his brain too shocked to go on moving.

Stars exploded all over his vision and he found himself doubled over - hello, toes -, gasping for breath. His left side was pain, deep and hot and red as crushed bones and bruises and ripped skin, and every breath made the fire sharper, breathing a struggle against his protesting ribs, not made easier by his stomach rebelling against its confines. For a moment he thought he might see his lunch again and he swallowed hastily, trying to keep everything down despite the pain. A small part of his mind told him to watch out for more attacks, but he couldn't get enough brain cells together to understand  _ why _ .

His senses returned only slowly, his eyes still filled with tears and a soft, worried voice in his ears. It took him a moment to make sense out of all the frantic noise.

"-thony? Are you okay? I'm sorry, I didn't mean to ..." A warm hand rested on his back, another around his waist, and Tony gratefully rested his weight against them. His knees were somehow weaker than when he had last checked and he wasn't quite sure that they would continue to support him.

A shift in the body next to him, and then he leaned against Louis, the hard lines of his body a comforting wall to keep him upright, while the hand on his back went up, fingers touching the side of his face.

It took a moment more for the pain to settle and air to reach his lungs again. Slowly he straightened, more than a bit grateful for Louis' helping hands when his ribs twinged in protest. "Fuck", he cursed. "You've got a real mean swing there, you know?"

A chuckle, the kind that showed more relief than amusement. "I didn't expect you to walk right into it. Didn't your friends teach you to stay away from flying fists?"

"Mmph." Tony looked up when he saw movement on his good side. It was Sigyn, looking as concerned as Louis had sounded, though when he offered her a wry smile she returned it with one of her own and held his water bottle out to him. Gratefully nodding he took it and unscrewed the cap while focusing on answering Louis. “Never knew to stay away from anything. Guess I wouldn't have to bother with emo space princes or masked geniuses with no fashion sense or such otherwise." Greedily he chucked the water down, only now feeling how parched his throat was.

When he put the bottle down he saw Sigyn giving him an odd look. Surprise, concern still ... amusement?

"Emo space prince?", she asked, and yes, that was definitely amusement.

Heat worked its way up into his cheeks, and he became acutely aware that these two were from Asgard as well, and they might know Loki. Not to mention he  _ knew _ that Louis hated Thor ... and now that he thought about it, hadn't it been implied that he was once a friend to both princes?

However before he could say something the arm around his waist tightened and he could feel tremors wrecking Louis. Alarm raced through him, cold and bright like lightning, and his breath caught. Was Louis angry?

And then there was suddenly a forehead resting on his shoulder, right next to his ear, and he heard the first huffs of a muffled laugh before it became an outright roar. "Emo - space ... prince? You're so precious, sweet." And then he completely dissolved into a fit of laughter, his arm holding Tony tight against his shuddering body. .

Tony ... wasn't sure what to think. He certainly wouldn’t have expected this reaction, even had he been given the time to actually think about it. Helplessly staring over at Sigyn he hoped she would be able to give him an explanation.

The woman was grinning all over her face, her own chest trembling a bit as well. When she noticed him looking she just winked and made a gesture that should probably indicate that he was to stay put, before she grabbed his half-empty water bottle and went to place it back to the others.

Yeah, not much help coming that way.

It took Louis quite a while to calm down again, but even with curiosity eating away at him Tony couldn't bring himself to care. Not when the other was a warm weight against his skin, the sounds in his ear comforting and strangely intimate. It reminded Tony so much of their shared evenings in the salon that he found himself relaxing into the hold, his head dropping against a warm, solid chest.

Some time later he remembered the realization that had originally caused this whole episode, and curiosity raised her head again. "You've done this before, haven't you?"

"Mmh?" Louis lifted his head so that his next words came a bit more understandable. He was still trembling from suppressed laughter but at least he seemed able to hold a conversation. "What have I done before?"

"Fought while pretending you're not as good as you are." Because that whole fight had been far too believable a performance to not be something Louis had done before.

The other man stiffened slightly, then exhaled; his whole body moving with it. "I have", he allowed, slowly, as if it was something he didn't like to admit, or think about. "Asgard is ... a lot of people there will look at someone wielding magic, and think they use the arcane arts to cheat when they win a fight."

That sounded just so " _ Stupid _ ." No, really, why would someone do that? "That's like ... I mean, when it's your power, then why is using it cheating? I mean, I don’t have any superpowers, and no-one has as of yet told me I’m no real superhero because I fight with my technology.” It wasn’t the  _ super _ that people doubted. Only the  _ hero _ -part. “Also, it sounds like a disaster in the making. I mean, why alienate people who are that powerful? That's like that bullshit thing they tried with the mutants. Just look at the Brotherhood." 

There was some strange emotion fluttering over Louis' face, one that Tony couldn't read. Was it about his reaction to Asgard's prejudice? Or were it the mutants?

Yet before he could think more about it Louis smiled and pulled him close again, his emotions hidden so perfectly again that Tony wouldn't even know they were there without that small glimpse he'd just had. "In some things it seems humans and Aesir are very much alike." A wry smile accompanied the fact, then he shook his head and said, releasing Tony: "Do you wish to continue, despite my clumsiness?"

That was an easy question. The pain had receded far enough that he barely felt it anymore - though he suspected he might get a bruise come morning - and breathing wasn't painful anymore either. "Of course", he said, grinning. "I guess if I want to become good enough to beat you I still need a bit more training."

The smile he got in response was fierce and warm and everything he needed it to be.

  


  



	72. High up in the Air

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Posting this now before I talk myself out of it again. Hope you enjoy, and I hope I have another chapter properly edited by next weekend (let's go with weekend, that should work, hopefully).
> 
> Warning for some swearing (a lot of ...?) in case someone is bothered by that.

Anthony's bedding had been changed during the day. It wasn’t something Loki would usually notice – growing up in a warrior society didn’t lend itself to acquiring an artist’s eye . Yet the cobalt-blue sheets made the dark amber of Anthony’s hair shine as if it was truly polished metal brought to life and curling in unruly strands all over the mattress and duvet and  Anthony's forehead. Loki's fingers itched with the urge to brush them back, reveal more of his beautiful face.

Yet the day had taken its toll on his little pet. Anthony had been all but d o zing off during dinner, missing out on a wonderful lasagna, and then fallen straight asleep without even the lightest touch of Loki's sleeping spells.  Being gathered up had barely made him move, nor had walking him back to their room woken him. His only reaction to being placed on his bed had been to snuggle even deeper into the sheets that Loki pinned carefully around him, looking so adorable that Loki wanted to sit here and watch him all night.

Especially when his lips curved in a smile over whatever sweet dream he had.

“I just wish I knew what you are dreaming of”, he whispered. Was it of him being back with his friends? Back in his workshop? Some good day or event he relived from his past?

Or could it be, maybe, something that had happened today, here, in Loki's care?

It was strange how much he wanted this to be true, and even stranger how familiar this feeling already felt.

Yet at least it wasn't too unreasonable to hope for his  darling pet to smile about something from today, not when this had been such a ... such a good day for them. He still couldn't quite believe the smile on Anthony's face when they had all told him how much they enjoyed his coffee machine - the way it had made him light up from the inside, as if his spirit, buried in the dust of fear and pain and regret, had finally shaken free of it and  _glowed_ again. Seeing this had fed his hope that Anthony would heal again, would return to being  _Tony Stark_ , the man Loki couldn't help but admire even in the worst of their fights.

Yet hearing him ask to fight Loki? Having him dare to go up against a being he knew he couldn't best, and smile when asking for it? That had almost had Loki's heart explode in warmth and pride and love. 

For how more could Anthony show how much he trusted Loki but by asking him to fight him, when it would be so easy to hurt him  _accidentally_ ? Show him how much power he really lacked when it came down to the two of them.

A hard, cold pang cramped his heart, and Loki gritted his teeth against the memory of Anthony stopping right in the fight. He had gone easy on his sweet, knowing that he needed to be slower than normal, had to pull his punches if he wanted Anthony to get something out of their fight. Yet even so he had only just managed to transform a full-out stomach punch that might have very well caused serious injury into a glancing hit that still left Anthony gasping for breath and curled around the pain.

That moment, when his fist had connected with his dear, the certainty of having shattered his sweet’s trust had been ice in his chest, lightning in his veins. Even with it being an accident he had been so sure that Anthony would reject him that he had barely dared to offer him a hand up, even a word of apology.

And Anthony had just looked up at him, quite obviously unconcerned by all those fears racing through Loki, his eyes open and beautiful and trusting, shattering Loki's heart all over again. 

Really, he would never have thought that he would ever be happy to hear someone say "Fuck". Or call him an ... how was it, an emo space prince?

The memory alone made him smile again, and he bowed over the man, his fingers resting next to Anthony's cheek. Warm breath washed over it, the hairs stirring lightly. "You are so lucky that I like you so much, my sweet", he whispered to the sleeping man, his language Asgardian, and he relished in the possessiveness this language gave the pet name.

There was no denying it anymore - the way he felt for Anthony was, for all the differences, too close to how he felt for his friends, his family, as if he could  deny seeing it. And he had always felt too obsessed with his loved ones, too concerned and observant and possessive - something he had always needed to curb so as not to infer with their own lives.

But when it came to Anthony ... watching the way his fingers caressed the pillow next to the man's face, itching to get closer and actually touch him as if they obeyed his heart more than his mind, he knew that if he wanted to stay close to his Anthony, wanted to own him and still see him heal and even prosper, to become again the lighthouse in the dark that he was, then he needed to do something else first.

He needed to swallow his pride and beg for forgiveness

Well, begging, Loki style.

  


?¿

  


The Helicarrier was never quiet, Loki knew that from earlier visits (and how SHIELD, especially Fury, would turn and toss in their beds if they knew how often he had been here to spy on their little plans without either of them the wiser). 

It was still the first Helicarrier, from back when the Chitauri had attacked earth and the Avengers had come together for a fight for the first time - the only one that had survived SHIELD's fall - and there were always people about, even when night had fallen outside. But, barring some emergency, at least then most of them could be found on the bridge or in the mess, not on the corridors and certainly not in Fury's cabin.

It had surprised Loki when his searching spell had told placed the director on the Helicarrier, mostly because there were so many political maneuvers going on right now that he had thought the man would be in the middle of. On the other hand, while Fury was certainly an extraordinary spy and understood how to manipulate people to get his way better than most he had never struck Loki as someone who enjoyed the games true politicians played.

Which was probably for the best; the man was terrifying enough as it was.

Walking through the corridors like he belonged there, his presence cloaked with a veil of magic, he found that keeping himself hidden was harder than it ought to be. Not because of the humans themselves - even with the higher than average percentage of extrahumans and mutants filling SHIELD's ranks most couldn't sense him behind his hiding glamor. The machines however and the magical defenses were an entirely different matter. It seemed Fury had gotten Dr. Strange to update their security systems since he’d been here the last time, forcing Loki to rely on magic he hadn't had to use since staying clear of Ljósálfarheimr. E arth's Supreme Sorcerer was astonishing, especially considering his age, and Loki was almost upset that he, being human, wouldn't live long enough to live up to his full potential.

On the other side,  seeing him stand up to Ferinje, with the older and more powerful Ljósálfin so completely at a loss as to what to do with this upstart … that had been a treat, too.

The door to Fury's quarter was secured even more with a tightly woven charm that Lok i might need even a few minutes to disarm, and he found himself smiling at the challenge. Also, at the flamboyance – one could say about human sorcerers what one wanted but Strange, at least, was a peacock that managed to flaunt his skills in a such a manner that Loki was perpetually caught between horror and laughing.

On second thought ... grinning wickedly Loki let his glamor fade away and knocked on the door, his other hand kept well away from any potential weapons. 

It took Fury less than a minute to answer, and Loki found his eyebrows flip high at the view of Director Fury in nothing but a pair of black leather pants and his customary eyepatch. Oh, and his pistol, which wouldn’t do him any good against Loki even at this distance, no matter how good he was at aiming it directly to where an Aes' heart would be.

Who would have thought that the man had still such a pronounced sixpack in his high age? Or could look at him with a look as if he had only just met him in a local coffee shop instead of being surprised by his sworn enemy in his own home?

"Hello Loki", the man said, his voice the usual dry rasp. " As if my evening wasn’t already fucked up enough … What the fuck are you doing here ruining it even more ?" His hand never wavered, the weapon still potentially incapacitating.

Loki was impressed. Fury certainly had ... how did the humans say it? A, yes: Director Fury had balls of steel.

Smiling as if he couldn't harm a fly Loki returned: "Good evening to you, too, Nicholas. I hope I'm not interrupting?"

Judging by the look that earned him he couldn't have been more inconvenient if he had come with an army.

Again.

"So I guess you're not here to kill every-fucking-one?" The pistol wavered for a moment, as if Fury might actually consider putting it down at Loki's word.

That was ... unexpected. Loki found himself freezing for a moment at the human's insight; had he become too predictable?

Yet before he could react to it in any way - before he could even make his mind up about it - Fury put the gun away, then pushed the door open and went out of the way, inviting him in with a short nod. "You might as well come in before the juniors see you and loose their shit."

Flicking his magic over the man Loki determined that,  _yes_ , this was  _indeed_ Nicholas Fury, and  _yes_ , he  _could_ escape from the room in an instant if he used his magic at his fullest, even with the extra ward on the door, so it probably wasn't a trap.

"You take my visit astonishingly well", he remarked while following the invitation and stepping into the cabin.

The room looked ... very much like what Loki had expected from the man. There was a bed, made with military precision, a door that probably hid an en-suite, another door to a wardrobe, and a table. The only concession to his rank was the second chair next to it, though Loki would be hard-pressed to name even one person that he could imagine sitting there with the director, sharing his evenings. Well, maybe Coulson, or Hill.

One the other hand - this exactly, the very lack of personal items or high rank concessions would have told him a lot about the man had Loki not already known it: how much he loved his family by denying himself any mementos that could be stolen and might lead to the discovery of his wife and two daughters. How much he loved his agents, that he would gift available funds into their training and meals and family of deceased rather than spending them on himself. 

Loki knew where his family lived, that his daughters were married and the younger one was expecting while the older raised a child together with her partner, planning on marriage now that same-sex marriages were allowed. Knew how easy it would be to shatter the seemingly impenetrable tower that Fury had build himself to be just by blowing up this Helicarrier that was home to some of the most trusted, and most loved people in Fury's life.

He would never do it, of course. What made him see all this with just one look at the man's cabin (well, and some research in the last years) was that this was how he himself lived, too.

Shutting down the memory of his children - Hela laughing at him in a restaurant, waving her fork around while she tried to tell him something or other of her colleagues; Fenrir on stage and almost high on his audience’s worship; Sleipnir running over a field with the sun gleaming off his black coat; and Jormungandr, smiling  coolly while she told him about her latest coup - he turned to Fury, who had wandered over to his desk and now pulled a bottle and two glasses from one of the drawers beside him.

"You've been lying low for a damn long while, now. At this point I expect either a fucking complicated plan that I don't really see happening with you visiting me in my own fucking cabin while my own fucking agents are all alive and up running, or that you've grown bored of playing against us and wish to change the damn rules." 

Loki was right; this man  _was dangerous._ Not that he would grant Fury the pleasure of showing him how much his words had thrown him, even if it meant to suppress the urge to blink that had his eyes itch.

"Can I offer you something? It's probably not what your royal tongue is used to, but ... well, I'll admit to some fondness to this particular shit." There was a rather sardonic glint in Fury's eye when he offered Loki a glass half filled with some amber liquid. His own glass was filled with much the same, Loki noticed, and he took a sip from it while Loki watched, the amused air not fading even when he leaned back against the sideboard.

Once - on the Helicarrier, when he'd been in the glass cage that could never hold a sorcerer of his caliber and let the humans believe they had bested him - he had thought how similar Fury and Odin were. Not the obvious similarities, only, but more ... they were both leaders, both willing to sacrifice their people as if they were no more than pieces upon the tafl board. Both claiming to see the bigger picture while everyone else was blind.

But Loki had watched both of them, had seen the callousness with which Odin tended to treat even Frigga sometimes and the smile and care Fury displayed towards his family, towards his subordinates. Saw the director hide his tears over dead agents by squaring his jaw and barking orders at everyone around him. Had seen the vigor with which he fought for the Avengers, for the mutants, for everyone that he might just have the chance to help. And he had long since accepted that Fury was more like a disillusioned version of Balder, the brother that worked tirelessly on making everyone's life better.

So where he would have expected to be slighted by Odin he knew that, whatever amused Fury in this moment, it was as much directed at himself as towards Loki.

Accepting the glass he brought it up to his nose and inhaled deeply, only to be pleasantly surprised by the fruitiness meeting his senses. Taking a careful sip he observed: "That's ... unexpectedly sweet." And good. Maybe he should ask Fury where he bought it; might make a pleasant gift for Fenrir and Akira.

There came a noise from the other side of the table and Loki's head whipped up, certain he had heard wrong. Yet there were still traces of the laugh lingering in Fury's eyes, even though he tried to hide it behind another sardonic smile. 

Then he sighed, the last traces of his laugh sliding off his face, and he let himself fall down in the other chair. "So, we're both here now, Loki. Tell me why."

Maybe it was the weariness in his voice, the way he sounded open (genuinely, even, though one could never trust a spy of Fury's caliber), but Loki found himself answering: "Because you're right. I am bored of these games." And I have much more to loose from them now than I ever had to gain.

"And that means  fucking what ?" Some wariness still in him, that awareness of how much Loki could be a threat. Yet it was hidden under his calm face, and a silent hope that made Loki again aware of how much Fury detested bloodshed.

Maybe it was this that allowed Loki let his guard down a bit, and he let himself fall against the backrest, legs crossed. "I'm not going to turn myself in, if that's what you're after."

Fury snorted. "Never took you for a self-sacrificing motherfucker, so that's not really surprising." He looked at Loki for a long moment, his gaze intense and searching. Steepling his hands he leaned forward, his chin resting on them, and said: "A truce, then. No more of your damn attacks on earth and her people, no more helping other assholes attack us."

That ... sounded too good to be true. "What else do you want?"

A small quiver of Fury's mouth, as if he had to suppress a smile. "I think that would be dependent on what  _you_ want."

And Loki was reminded forcefully that  _Fury was earth's best spy._ Someone who played this game for so long that no one even knew that he was.

One day he would really like to play poker with the man.

Staying still required all his will to keep himself from standing up, from even twitching and betraying his need to cover his body's response. Instead he smiled, slowly, amused, like a tiger that has found a worthy opponent at last. "It is not what _I_ want, for in this I am merely the ... well, let's call me the ambassador."

An eyebrow rose up, slowly, deliberately, but that was all the reaction Fury showed.

Smiling Loki continued: "You have of course heard of the Jotnar." He stopped, curious how Fury would react to this.

And the director didn't disappoint. "Your people, according to Thor."

Loki had to give it to him: Fury wasn't even showing a hint of disappointment over the lack of anger when Loki just smiled in response. "My birth race, yes. What else has Thor told you about them?" Between Thor's change of heart and Fury's own skepticism he could at least hope for his view to be not too skewed.

Fury looked at him for a long moment, his gaze so direct and intent that Loki had to struggle not to squirm under it, then he suddenly leaned back in his chair, one of his hands still lying open on the table, the other resting on his knee in a deliberate pose of confidence. "Aliens from a place called Jotunheimr that’s permanently covered in ice, with temperatures well below the freezing point. According to Thor, your ability to form ice is something of a fucking birthright to them, though they are normally taller than you, about ... 3 meters, yes?" Loki nodded, fascinated by this dry story telling. By the telling way Fury said  _according to Thor._

"Thor told us he has always known them as savage brutes, though with them being isolated from all other realms after being defeated by the Aesir  after their last  asshole of a ruler  decided to attack our fucking planet  he is not sure whether that is the truth." 

And that ... where that Thor's words? Loki couldn't quite quell the reaction at hearing Fury tell it this way, the sudden urge rising in him to ask  _Is it Thor who is doubting Asgard's official truth or is that just you_ ? 

Fury of course noticed, though he didn't say anything, preferring instead to watch Loki like one chess player might another.

Acknowledging his slip Loki let his mouth curl into a small smile. "You are wise not to trust Asgard's lies", he allowed, then took a deep breath. He had been raised to be a diplomat, had brokered many treaties before, yet this one might turn out to be the most important one of his life. His own happiness depending on it as much as the stability of Jotunheimr and the fulfillment of his promise to her people. Not to mention that there was a war on the horizon, and this treaty was another step to make sure the whole galaxy stayed safe ( _and really, Loki, you never could aim low, couldn't you_ ?)

He took another sip from his liquor, putting his thoughts straight, then put the glass down and leaned forward. Steepling his fingers he finally began: "According to very old records as well as what I have seen myself Jotunheimr may actually be the technologically most advanced realm we know of; it certainly is the oldest. There are tales on Asgard of cold giants visiting her forefathers which are, I believe, referring to the Jotnar of a much earlier generation. I am ... actually not sure why they are not using this kind of technology anymore, yet I have seen proof that they still have knowledge beyond even An-Stark's wildest dreams." Internally cursing his slip he tried to hide it by hastily continuing his explanation. "Between the lost war and the following ... neglect" Was it neglect, to leave a planet of ice to the mercy of the warmth? Or cruelty? Or even ... "they now need someone who might be willing to provide them with resources their planet cannot currently offer."

Fury wouldn't have been who he was if he couldn't draw his one conclusions from this. And judging by the glint in his eyes, by the blankness of his face, he was terribly interested and desperately trying to keep it from showing.

Still, his voice wasn't betraying anything when he asked: "There are at least seven other realm out there, all of them better prepared to deal with other fucking aliens. So, why the fuck  _we_ ?"

An obvious question, one Loki had expected. "Because right now the only realm trading with them cannot offer them what they need. And it takes eons for Ljósálfar to ma ke decisions." This was more literal than Fury might think; they had spend the last three centuries debating over whether Asgard's met should be allowed to be imported or not and had yet to come to a conclusion.

It was also giving Fury information he could use in the negotiations, yet Loki was sure he would have figured this out himself, too.

"And what keeps them from using our invitation and then fucking us over?"

Loki couldn't help the laugh, tried to hide it and ended up snorting. Yet the pure idea of King Byleistr planning such a thieving … "I am sorry, it is just ..." He shook his head, regaining some of his seriousness. "Their former king, the one who lead them against Midgard and Asgard? I believe he might have, but he was actually something of an exception to their culture. Jotnar are courtoues to a fault, and they would  _never_ go back on a sworn word. Their current king especially would never act like this, and that is not even taking in account that Midgard is under Asgard's protection and they would risk a falling-out with the Aesir if they didn't honor any agreement made between you. And believe me, they are currently not in the state to risk a war, not to mention that trade negotiations  with Ljósálfarheimr will go more smoothly once they can prove themselves to be fair trading partners. There will be no ... one-sided renegotiating. Not from their side, at least."

Fury didn't look amused by the implication that humans might botch this but he wasn't protesting, either. Probably because it happened often enough - Loki wouldn't be as successful as he was with his little company otherwise.

"So what you're fucking saying is - you want us to trade with the Jotnar." It was more a statement than a question, but Loki still nodded agreement. 

Nodding himself, thoughtful, Fury took a moment to contemplate this before he asked: "And what, exactly, would they want?"

"I am ... not entirely sure. I have spoken to King Byleistr about it, yet as a representative of Asgard I do not think that he talks of all of Jotunheimar's needs with me. I know that they need food, and maybe some more materials." He hesitated a moment longer, then added: "They are offering ore and technology." More, maybe, though ... he really didn't expect king Byleistr to tell him everything. 

And the offer wasn't one Earth's leaders would reject, even with all that had happened since Loki brought aliens to them the first time.  _Especially_ with all that had happened since then.

But Fury ... Fury was a different matter. Maybe he had once followed others without doubt, but by now he only trusted himself, and maybe –  _maybe_ \- Hill and Coulson, and the Avengers, to keep Earth safe. Loki had no doubt that should Fury decide that this treaty was detrimental he would find a way to sabotage it.

It was nerve-wracking to wait for the director to make a decision.

To keep himself from fidgeting too much he took another sip from his glass, tried to focus on the sweet taste of the liquor. Yet all he could taste was the metallic fear that this might go wrong, that he wouldn't be able to keep his promise ...

When Fury finally continued he dug his nails into his hands to keep himself from betraying his nerves even more obviously. 

"Guess you're not going to tell me why a motherfucker like you is so interested in this."

Amusement sparked in Loki, managed even to calm his nerves for a moment. "Not really, no", he agreed.

Fury nodded as if he hadn't expected anything else. "I'll meet them, then." The sudden sharpening of his eyes made Loki hold his breath. The director shouldn't be underestimated, and he felt suddenly cornered. "For a price, of course."

"Of course." Loki wouldn't give Fury the satisfaction of asking further, not now that he knew the director was hooked, just returned his gaze levelly and took another sip of the liquor. 

It really was good.

Fury was too good at his job as to enter a patience contest whose gain was minimal. "Fucking Information", he said, plain. "And help. Magical help."

Loki found his lips twitching. No-one could accuse Fury of not going all-out if he saw an advantage. Or maybe he was just bluffing and tried to figure out how far Loki was ready to go for this treaty.

It didn't matter. What he was asking for was little trouble, and Loki would haggle him down anyway. For appearances sake, if nothing else.

"Information pertinent to Earth's safety, if I stumble over it", he restricted. A deliberate showing of amusement curved his lips into a smirk. "Unlike what you seem to think I do not frequent the same spots your ...villains gather at to spin their ludicrous plans."

Fury accepted with a nod, suspecting probably that Loki wouldn't budge on this. Maybe even that, if he pressed the matter, Loki would make it a point of pride to leak as little information as possible. 

Really, there were times when he wasn't sure whether he liked to play with spies of his own caliber, or abhorred it.

" T he rest?"

"Magical help ..." How to put it delicately, without revealing what he was doing with his time? "I am ... not unwilling to offer my help when you are unable to win on your own. Yet I caution you to rely on me if you do not need help - I have other responsibilities and if I feel you are calling for me without need I might not respond in time when you  _do_ need me." It would be awkward enough to be called out of a company meeting, and there was no way he could respond in time if he was on Asgard.

The director accepted this condition readily enough, furthering Loki's belief that he had only asked for it to determine Loki's commitment to this treaty anyway.

"No attacks on Earth anymore, information on your fucking not-colleagues and magical help if possible and needed, in exchange for no further prosecution and a meeting with the Jotun - Jotnar? - delegation about a possible treaty between Jotunheimar and Earth", he summarized. 

Nodding slowly - this was what he had come for, a deal even better than what he had expected to gain - Loki drained the rest of his glass and put it down on the desk again. "If this is all ...?"

"How do we get a fucking hold on you when we need you?"

Oh. Loki sank back into the chair. He hadn't exactly thought of that.

Fury's eyebrow rose. "I don't think you know how to use a fucking phone?", he challenged.

That ... wasn't a bad idea, actually. Of course he couldn't just give Fury his number, not when he could easily find out whose name it was registered  o n, but ... "Your cellphone, please?", he requested.

Looking at him dubiously Fury opened a drawer and took a phone out. Hesitating for a moment longer, his eyes fixed on Loki as if he could read his thoughts and intentions right through his skull, he eventually put it down on the table and pushed it over to Loki.

It was a black thing, small enough to not draw any notice once slipped into most pockets. Very inconspicuous with its simple design, yet Loki didn't need to open the case to know that somewhere in it would be a stamp to show that it was made by Stark Industries, if not by Tony Stark himself. 

Taking the phone he suppressed the urge to change up all the numbers - though he  _did_ change the screen to show a rabbit in a pink tutu and exchanged the ring tone to the  _ Man in Black _ theme. A few flicks of his fingers later he was in the contacts and added his number, then used magic to make sure that it wasn't displayed as anything more than his name. Pressing it he made sure that the number worked before sliding the phone back to Fury and taking his own out to cut off "Stranger in the Night" and adding the number to his own contacts.

He couldn't resist to use the same rabbit in tutu picture as contact photo for the man.  _Much_ better than the Jack Sparrow one he’d found in Barton’s phone that one time.

Looking up again he found Fury mustering the phone as if he wasn't sure whether he really dared to touch it. Finally coming to a conclusion – or just sensing Loki’s amused smile – he picked it up and flipped it open.

A look almost like pain passed his face when he saw the screen picture, but he simply flicked through to the contact menu, then asked: "This will work?"

"As long as I'm planet-side, yes", Loki said. "If this is all then, or have I forgotten anything else?"

There was strange look on Fury's face, an even stranger hesitation masked by something like hope and blankness and resignation and some more emotions that Loki had no hope to decipher. 

When he finally spoke there was no emotion in his voice at all. "I know we said information on villains, but ... do you know anything about Stark?"

And Loki really shouldn't be so surprised by this. After all there  _had been_ that slip, and he knew that Fury cared about his people. Saw the Avengers as his people, too, not matter ow they might think about it any given day. So why was he feeling naked suddenly, as if Fury might know that he had found Anthony and kept him? Even more, might see his feelings for the man, and that this truce had only come into existence because of them?

Standing up and using the motion to mask his reactions he waited until he was a the door and had more control over his features again to answer. "I wasn't the one to kidnap him, if that is what you are asking. As to where he is now ..." How much should he reveal? That he had Anthony now?

No. Not even his magic was strong enough to mislead Anthony should he be told that Loki had kept him. So omitting it was.

"I know where he is now, and why he cannot return yet. But ... he is well. A well as he can be." As well as Loki could make him, without knowledge about healing the scars if the mind and only his own instincts to guide him.

When he looked back at Fury there was still mistrust in his features, yet also hope. Relief. As if, behind all that bravado and all the speeches and talk, Fury hadn't had any more hope to find Tony alive.

The thought of Anthony dying send a cold shower down his back right into his heart. And he had only ever cared for him for a few days, so how would someone feel who had watched over him for a good part of his life?

It was probably this that caused him to add: "He has been through a lot - more than I care to think about. But he is still himself, still determined to never be brought down. I firmly believe that he will recover."

Fury was a man of pride and honor as much as Loki, even if their way of showing it differed a lot. So when he heard a low "Thank you" behind him Loki allowed him the illusion that his voice wasn't tear-filled enough to betray his emotions. Instead he smiled into the empty corridor and answered: "You are welcome, Nicholas Fury."

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please, I know that a lot of people don't like Fury. I'm never going to understand that, even less after that scene in AoU where he was the only person who actually gave a shit about Tony and what he was feeling. Anyway, please don't leave any "I hate Fury why did you write him in the story at all?" comments. Thank you very much, and I hope you all have a good day/night/whatever.


	73. Warm Morning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woah - miracle! An update right on schedule!  
> Yeah, well, I'm planning on weekly updates, so let's see how this works out. At least I don't have to actually write the next 6 chappies as they only need to be edited at this point ...
> 
> For everyone who is still reading this story - thank you very very much. I really can't express how much it means to me that you like this story.

Tony woke up to the feeling of someone sitting down on the mattress next to him.

A small, lazy happiness warmed him through and it was almost a shock to realize how much he had changed again in just a few days.  Three weeks ago he would have been lying here, heart hammering hard, his breath forcefully controlled so the potential torturer would think him still asleep, leaving him hopefully alone for a few minutes more.

Now he knew -  _knew_ , somehow - that it was Louis whose weight pinned the mattress down, whose fingers were  carding through his hair. Louis who hummed softly, a tune so low that Tony barely heard it.

A part of him wondered if the man was using magic to make him more compliant, maybe even controlling him.

Or if it was just his own fucked-up mind, making him trust when everything that was between them was a severe case of stockholm syndrome. 

Bu t while that still might be true Louis hadn't given him a reason to mistrust him. He had been here,  what, ten days?  now and Loui s was treating him better than many acquaintances had, even some of the people that had called themselves his friends. Especially in the last days Louis had made sure that there was barely ever anything out of the ordinary happening. Nothing that couldn't be predicted. Nothing that might end up scaring him. Half a year ago a day that he could predict from start to finish would have been boring as hell, but now even the two times Louis had had to leave the house had left him unsettled and he was hoping that it wouldn’t happen again.

"My little kitten, do you not wish to get up this morning? Or are you still this sore after yesterday?" Louis' low, amused voice was blending perfectly with the dreamlike morning, yet it seemed to remind every muscle and bone in Tony that, yes, he had been trying to take on Louis yesterday. Well, fake-take-on – he was no opponent for an Aes - but still ...

Groaning he buried himself deeper in the sheets, though he opened his eyes. "Sore", he admitted. "I don't think I'm going to do that again."

Louis chuckled. "And here I thought we were both having fun. It would be a tragedy not to see you fight like this again."

Fun. A smile tugged on his lips and he grinned. "I had fun", he admitted. 

"Well, then I'll just have to bribe you to get up, won't I?", Louis mused, his eyes sparkling. "How about I massage these knots out of your muscles if you get up now?"

"Yes!" He was kneeling up fast enough that Louis' hand caught in his hair.

Ignoring the short, sharp pain he stared at him with wide eyes. "You would really do that?" Because he remembered how Louis had done that before, that one time on his first day. Remembered that the man was better at it than so many people who did it professionally.

Louis chuckled and let his hand fall into his lap. "Of course. I should have offered yesterday anyway. You humans are so delicate, I should have realized that our fight would cause you pain."

Smiling up at him Tony wished he could show the other that there was really no reason for he slight guilt in his voice. Showi ng him that he still liked him, still trusted him. 

Instead he scrambled to his feet and made for the bathroom. His muscles pulled hard and his back especially complained loudly about being treated like this, but he ignored it in favor of  being the first in the bathroom . He'd had worse anyway - _Ignoring my body's needs in favor of giving form to just one more idea_ could be the title of his biography. Or at least the subtitle to  _Drunken Idiot_ .

Louis followed close behind and steadied him wordless when he lost his balance due to his leg cramping up, then helped him get rid of his pajamas and into the shower.

The water was much warmer than usual, cascading hot and heavenly down his shoulders and back and making him moan at the pure sensation of it. He felt the muscles in his back relaxing and all the sore spots and cramping parts suddenly hurt much much less.

"You think there are showers in heaven?", he asked, unthinking.

A light chuckle from behind him. "I wouldn't know; I do not believe in this heaven of yours. But if you think this heavenly ... I think I do need to get you to Asgard one time and introduce you to the palace baths."

Tony stared at the wall in front of him, not sure what to think. He had forgotten, again, that Louis was an alien. Even more, the thought of Asgard triggered the memory of before, when Louis had mentioned taking him to Asgard the first time and he had thought of leaving a message for Thor - leaving a message that he needed to be rescued from here, from Louis.

He wasn't sure he wanted to be rescued now.

Yes, he still wanted to be back with his friends, back with Jarvis, back in his workshop tinkering on his projects. Yet for him to be rescued he would need to be a prisoner, and he wasn't sure he was still thinking of himself as that anymore, or at least he wasn't feeling like one anymore.

Even more, he didn't want to loose Louis. He loved his friends, his chosen family, but the thought of loosing Louis over them was almost unbearable painful. Somehow, during these past days, the man had wound himself under all of Tony's defenses, had coaxed trust from him when he barely ever gave it to anyone and when Tony had started rebuilding himself he had placed every stone on a foundation that Louis was a part of.

"You don't have to."

Startled Tony looked back over his shoulder. What did Louis mean-?

"If the thought frightens you. You don't have to come to Asgard with me." Warm hands settled on his hips, held him steady while he stared at Louis.

Was the man even real?

"I'm not afraid", he said. "I'm just ... are you not afraid that Thor-"

Thor. The one that he should never ever mention in Louis' vicinity.

He held himself very very still, waited with baited breath for the response.

Yet all he got was a derisive snort. "If the idiot actually noticed that you'd been there he would  _deserve_ to find you. But since he can't even be bothered to notice that  _I_ am still walking freely among the Aesir ... not very likely."

There was something in Louis' voice, a crazy mix of longing and derisiveness and something else that Tony couldn't hope to understand. Carefully he asked: "Do you want him to?"

The water was streaming down at them, creating a private little world all around them made from hot steam and the sound of running water. The fruity smell of the shower gel clung to their skins, a soft counterpoint to the spicier shampoo and the heavy mood the question had created between them.

The vapor clung to their skin, to Louis’ long hair, sticking his bangs into his face. Almost hiding that strange expression from view. Longing. Pain. Love. A hurt as if someone you loved and trusted beyond the world reached into your chest and ripped out your heart.

Tony would know. He’s been there. It only made his own heart hurt, seeing it now, remembering Obie. Remembering looking at every person in his life and wondering  _Can I trust you?_

When Louis answered it was strange, words falling into their fluid little world like pebbles in a pond, alien and hard and leaving a strange echo.

"I want him to be the king I know he could be. We ... we grew up together, and I always knew that he was going to be my king, and that he would be a great king. Yet somewhere along the line he lost what made him  _him_ and became a spoiled brat, only focusing on what held his focus at the moment." A sigh, loud enough to drown out the streaming water and rocking Tony. "Like Earth, right now. You know my - you know him, Anthony. Can you imagine that this very same boy once lead a charge of children against older, wiser warriors? That he lead them to victory by using tactics? He was wiser as a adolescent than he is now, Anthony, and this saddens me."

This wasn’t the Thor he lived with, no, though it rang of the man he sometimes saw when Thor remembered Loki. When he had to take a step back, had to actually  _think_ about what his brother had lived through instead of just assuming his own experiences were the same. It wasn't a man he saw often and it had taken several years and talks with other members of their merry band until he had emerged first.

A sudden burning wish came to Tony for Louis to know that man that Tony had seen glimpses of. To know him and see that he was right and Thor could still be the king he had seen in him.

Yet he didn't. Not when Louis continued to wash him, his hands gentle and warm on Tony's skin and in is hair, nor when he dried him and then set him loose to find his own clothes. He couldn't say exactly what was preventing him from saying something, just that niggling feeling that Louis might know more about who Thor was now than he said, and yet still found him lacking.

Found him ... disappointing?

And Tony knew too much about disappointment to try and clear this up.

  


?¿

  


Breakfast was more mundane than he'd ever had it here, pancakes and bacon and scrambled eggs, served by a very chipper Jean. Obviously he enjoyed the new coffee machine immensely - not that Tony begrudged him this, what with him getting a cup more than normal when Louis was looking away. Though he might have noticed, what with the way he rolled his eyes.

Tony ignored him in favor of exchanging a conspiratorial grin with Jean.

Afterwards Louis led him down to the gym, only pausing to grab a bottle of oil, then pulled a yoga mat out of storage and spread it out on the gym floor.

The sight was somewhat unexpected, even more since the mat was as stiff and pristine as if it had never been used. _Fuck the prince, I'll take the horse,_ in black and glitter and a rearing white horse on pink rubber.

"You ... do yoga?"

Louis snorted. "Hardly. This is Jean's idea of what I believe you refer to as a  _gag gift._ Though from what I understand of it yoga seems to be a more human version of the Trials, so I wouldn't be averse to learning more about it."

Tony stared again at the white horse and decided not to ask.

"Strip, and then on your stomach, please."

There was only a moment of hesitation before Tony pulled his sweater over his head, followed by the pants. Actually, he was already half lying on the mat before his brain registered why he had even hesitated and that this kind of order would have been dreaded only weeks ago.

Now that thought felt strange, something that happened to a very different Tony and yet himself, too.

"Anthony?"

The inquiry woke him from his confusion and he looked over his back, smiled in apology. "Sorry, I was just ..." Not sure how to end the sentence he let it trail out.

Louis only nodded, didn't demand a more thorough explanation. Instead he knelt down beside Tony and asked: "May I start?"

As answer Tony let himself settle down fully on the mat, his head resting on his folded arms. It wasn't as comfortable as he remembered massage couches to be, yet he certainly had no reason to complain. Even less when he heard a cap being unscrewed and then the sound of oil being warmed in hands.

A hand rested on his lower back, warm and solid. A shiver ran over Tony's spine, but he bit his teeth and forced himself to relax. This was Louis, and Louis would never hurt him. 

Yet instead of going further the hand remained there and after a moment longer Tony pushed himself up on his forearms again. "Louis?"

The hand instantly went up, pushed him gently down again. "I'm sorry", Louis said. "I just ... it's healing nicely. With a bit of luck you won't even have a scar."

The burn mark on his back. From back then, before Louis. That morning when he bit the little society heiress and wannabe-mistress instead of letting her feed him, then send her bodyguard in the beautifully laid breakfast table before they started on punishing him one last time.

He hoped she retained a scar on her hand. Would fit nicely with her flowery dresses and death-cold heart.

"I have a lot of scars", he said. "One more or less ..."

He wasn't even sure whether it was a lie. But he was sure that he didn't want to think about it anymore and so he pushed up again into Louis' hands, to encourage him to start with the massage.

A short hesitation, then the warm hands settled more solidly on his shoulders. "This might hurt a bit", Louis warned, while he rearranged himself next to him.

Tony smiled. "Never had a good massage that didn't." Not with all the knots and tension his kind of work brought with it. Not to talk of his superheroing that had made his masseuse curse him more than once.

Though she hadn't been Louis. His fingers were warmer than any human’s, the touch alone burning through Tony like a fire. And they were digging into his muscles with the ease of a child forming playdoh and the skill of years of experience, reducing Tony to a mushy pile of muscles and sinews in five minutes flat.

Relaxing into the mat he allowed his mind to focus on Louis. On the way those nimble fingers wandered over his skin, searching for those places where his muscles had knotted up tight and painfully. Then the pressure of those very same fingers digging in, achingly so, causing him to huff and groan slightly with every time they circled over that spot, the pressure increasing every time. It hurt, but then Tony hadn’t lied – with how his back tended to know up he had never had someone get the tension out without a certain amount of pain.

There was sweat dripping down his side. A sign that his body was working against the pain, was fighting his instinctive reaction of getting up and hiding.

And it wasn’t as if the suffering was all. He could almost see it in his mind, the way those knots tried to warn him away from further pressuring them, like a criminal barricading in a house and shooting at the police that tried to get him out. And just like that criminal he could, finally, feel the knots giving up. Could feel his muscles relax in a last spike of pain that burned down to a soothing warmth, flooding through him and relaxing him further. Could feel Louis’ hands running over that patch of skin to distribute the warmth, his body giving under the fingers that had seemed so cruel only moments before.

Could feel his mind following his body as it sank down ever further, trusting the man above him to bring no more pain than he could handle and the relieve of nerves no longer taxed by pain and finally allowed to let go.

  


  



	74. Letters and phone calls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Yet it was beyond fascinating, the way his sweater slipped up and revealed a strip of pale honey, his muscles pulling smoothly under the shirt._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh well, will wonders never cease .... a new chapter!

Having Anthony like this, pliant and warm and trusting, was a marvel all on its own. When Loki had offered him the massage he had half-expected a defiant  _no_ – had almost kicked himself once he had realized what he had said so unthinkingly – because surely a man who had been mistreated so much wouldn't allow him to let his hands roam all over his skin, no matter his intentions. Not with all the bad memories he could sense down that road.

Yet here his pet was and  _nothing was happening_ . Nothing bad, that is; only muscles yielding under his fingers and soft moans that he wasn't entirely sure Anthony was even aware of. 

By the time he had finished Anthony was lying there in the most delicious way, all sweet and relaxed. A warm hand on his cheek managed to rouse him just enough to get a small noise of displeasure and also turn bleary eyes back over his shoulder.

A small, secret part of Loki started to coo and it took his whole self control to keep from scooping his pet up and gather him close and maybe take him back to Asgard. Strip him of his clothes and bare his beautiful honey skin to his hungry eyes, decorate it with gold and emeralds and the  seal of a prince of Asgard to keep anyone from ever touching him again. 

Loki took a deep, deep breath, his eyes falling closed while he forced the desire down. This was not him. It was just ... it was just that it was so hard to resist someone who was so affected by his _mere touch_ . Someone who was also the embodiment of what he searched for in his lovers - sensitive, strong, intelligent. Curious. Interesting. It didn't help that he was also beautiful enough that he had lusted for him even during their worst fights, penetrating the hatred that had clouded his judgement for so long.

And as if that wasn't already alluring enough his magic hungered for him. Even now, unused, uncalled, he could feel it reaching for the man lying between his legs, small tendrils that delicately probed his skin and aura for a way beneath it, into him.

If Anthony ever knew what a lure he was ... how much it took for Loki to not just reach out and take him.  Tame him.

Maybe it would be better if he knew. If he knew and escaped and stayed away from him. It would be easier for Loki to never take advantage of him, to never let his inner possessive monster take the reigns and potentially harm Anthony just all the more.

But he couldn't - right now there was no place on earth safer for Anthony than his home. And Loki couldn't bear to let him go anyway.  _I can be strong._

He just needed time. Time and patience and a little bit of luck, and maybe, just maybe, he might be allowed to find out just how far this between them could go.

It just meant he had to refrain from bowing forward and pressing a small kiss to the soft skin on Anthony's neck, so he just brushed his fingers over his cheek instead. "Wake up, my darling pet. It is not yet time to sleep, and I don't think this is the most comfortable place anyway."

Another, louder noise of complaint, yet Anthony slowly fought his way up to his knees. Rubbing his eyes he said: "You are really good at this."

Loki didn’t even try to hide his smile while he rolled the mat up and put it away. "If you grow up a warrior of Asgard you have to learn at least some disciplines of healing, even if it is just massaging sore muscles or mixing some simples against blood loss. Otherwise I fear Asgard's healers would never do anything else but tend to trainings injuries."

He couldn't help the warmth flowering in his chest when Anthony grinned at that.  Trying to up this story he let his smile become more conspiratorial and added: "Of course the real challenge were my fellow magic students. Nothing like sitting still for hours on end to try and master some complicated spell to give you the grandmother of all neck strains."

Anthony laughed, turning to follow Loki with his eyes. "No wonder Thor never got the hang of it." He stopped, his face losing some color, his laugh freezing on his lips. A wariness came to his eyes, probably because he had remembered that Loki didn't like to hear this name in his house.

Yet somehow, strangely, he didn't mind hearing it from his  s we e t's mouth. Not when he was using it without knowledge of who Thor was to him, and least of all when he was speaking of Thor  _lacking_ in something. It was ... actually, it was rather refreshing. 

Making sure that his smile was still open and light he met Anthony's eyes, trying to convey that he wasn't angry with him. "Probably. Now come, sweet. I still have some mail to answer and I'm sure you're still not through your papers." Not yet, at least, though with the rate Anthony was going through the stack it couldn't take much longer.

With pleasure he saw Anthony coming to his feet without problems and moving faster, more fluid, when he preceded him to the study, his movements no longer hindered by stiffness and pain. When he settled down on his blanket and leaned forward to pull the papers to him Loki actually had to remind himself again that he wasn't the kind of monster that took advantage of those dependent on him, not to mention that in doing so he would throw away his only chance to ever gain Anthony's love.

Yet it was beyond fascinating, the way his sweater slipped up and revealed a strip of pale honey, his muscles pulling smoothly under the shirt.

Determined not to slip he booted his computer - noticing the faint shudder at  A pple's signature tune - and opened his e-mails. There were still some events to plan, and companies he had to decide whether to work for or not.

Which, well. Staying all his day indoors to work on papers he could have had in Asgard, too. He  couldn't wait for Diara to return to work or he might just have  to find another way to keep himself from getting bored.

  


?¿

  


He had managed to focus on work for quite a while actually when he was reminded, forcefully, of Tony Stark's presence. And not by his pet himself, not with how engrossed he still was in the news he had missed, but by the letter hiding within his stack of daily mail.

It was pretty nondescript from the outside, just the usual Stark Industries logo in the address field, and he caught himself thanking Chaos and Fire and even the weird sisters themselves if they had their hand in this. He really had no idea how Anthony would have reacted to the presence of a letter that had been, only a day before, still in Mrs. Virginia Potts' hand. A letter addressed to his _captor_.

Taking the letter before it could accidentally fall onto the floor - or, worse, his smart pet notice the sudden cease of movement and fear he was, somehow, to blame for it - he to cut the flap open.

Inside the paper was far more obvious, the red logo filling the upper part of the page as if anyone could forget the importance of the company. Under it more or less the same invitation he had gotten the last years already, signed by Virginia Potts herself, with an added note how much she wished to see him this year again.

Because that was what Lady Potts did with important and valued business partners - invite them personally to the Stark Industries Christmas party.

Closing his eyes and trying to calm his breathing he reminded himself, forcefully, that this wasn't a sign that Potts or the Avengers had found Stark. They weren't trying to lure him away so they could kidnap him in secret. If they had even the tiniest notion that Stark was here they would have already turned up, adorned in spandex and armed to the teeth and _taken_ him.

No, this was only because he had been so out of it for _months_ now that he had forgotten to write back. Why else would Lady Potts send him a letter less than a week before the actual date, especially since it had been his company's pleasure to host the event in the first place and he could therefore be depended upon knewing everything about time and place firsthand?

"Louis?", cut Anthony's voice tentatively into his thoughts. "Is ... are you okay?"

Cursing himself Loki smiled at his worried pet, his fingers finding their way into his tousled hair almost on their own. "Just a party I need to attend and forgot about, nothing serious. And you, sweet? How far have you come in your pursuit of knowledge?" He put the page down as inconspicuously as possible, just another letter of many.

Luckily Anthony didn't seem to notice. "I'm ... almost done." His head was turned down, and his hand was up by his neck, rubbing over the collar's leather in an obviously nervous gesture.

Why ...?

Oh. Was Anthony thinking he would ... take his papers away? Or let him become bored? Was he nervous about what Loki would do once he didn’t have anything to do anymore?

And yet he had answered his question, had braced his fear and trusted him. The simple thought warmed Loki more than he cared to admit.

Trying to keep his voice light so as not to make him even more nervous he let his fingers wander further, stroking through the hair over his ear. "Then we'll have to find something other for you to read after, I think. Is there a book you wish for, sweet? Or something else?"

There was wonder in Anthony's eyes before he ducked his head, hiding the evidence of his surprise as well as the pleasure making his eyes shine. "I ... can I think about it?"

"Of course. Whenever you are ready."

The shy smile he got in response was one of the most beautiful he had ever been gifted with.

Before he could say anything else the deep sound of a big bell rolled through his office.

He blinked, surprised, and reached almost absently for a flinching Anthony, petted him until he settled back down. He knew this sound, of course. Had seen the real bell, heavy gleaming brass and deep, rolling sound high above Birnin Zana, and knew that a mere cell phone ring tone could never do it justice.

Yet it was the sound of one of those he held as dear as his own heart.

Still keeping his hand moving in his pet's hair, meeting his ashamed gaze with a smile full of love and humor, he blindly reached for the phone buried under his heavy paperwork and flipped it open.

"I did not expect you to call me, princess. It is a pleasure to hear from you." Though as much as he loved hearing from her he couldn't help but be worried; she would come over soon so why was she calling him now?

The high ringing laugh coming from the other side showed that he hadn’t managed to keep his fears out of his voice. "Don't fret, I'm alright pappa. Really, it's as if you think I couldn't slay my own dragons."

"Of course you can." That was never a question. Loki would never let a child of his walk any path of this universe alone without the knowledge of a warrior to protect them. And Jörmundgandr especially, with her knowledge of her mother's magic, too, was no damsel in distress. "I was merely inquiring to know whether you need help burying the body."

"Don't worry, T'Challa would help me with that if I asked him. Well, if I weren't on the other side of earth." Amusement made her deep voice lighter and Loki found reassurance in this - she wouldn't sound as happy as she did if she was in any trouble.

Thinking back to what she had told him of her travels the last time they had spoken he asked: "Kyoto, if I remember correctly?"

"Yes. Oh, before I forget it - Fen sends you love, and he says he's only coming over in February when he can bring Akira."

"He can always bring his boyfriend." That came faster then he wanted it to, and it wasn't the answer his daughter was looking for. He didn't even need the disappointment coming through the phone to know that.

Sighing he took his hand back from Anthony to card it through his own hair. He had, after all, promised himself to be more patient with his children's lovers, and Akira was a good kid, for a vampire. "I'll call him back myself", he promised before Jöra could voice her opinion on the matter. "Maybe we can squeeze some musical in between their schedule." At least he thought he remembered that the vamp liked such things - it had made it a little harder to pick on him after Fen had revealed that.

There was silence on the other end of the phone, and he found himself looking down, in big brown eyes that were confused and slightly wary - Anthony not being sure what he was talking about. With a smile he tried to convey that everything was ok, and when it didn't work he gave in to his want and bowed forward to let his free hand pet the shorter hairs in his sweet's neck, his fingers carefully stroking the strain from strained muscles.

Surprise made his eyes even wider, before they half-closed in contentment. When he leaned backwards into Loki's hand, the paper forgotten in his lap, it felt more like reward than it ought to yet he couldn’t help the smile curling his lips.

Grinning even wider at the small moan Anthony gave before he bowed his head down to give him better access Loki was almost startled into dropping his phone when Jöra asked: "What happened to you?"

Staring at the man kneeling at his feet, luckily not alarmed by his own startling, he searched for words that would explain his feelings to his daughter without alerting Anthony to them - and therefore scaring him off.

"I have ... found someone I like." Meager words that did nothing to explain what he felt, like calling the sun _warm_ or snow _cold_. As if mere words could ever describe this maelstrom of emotions, contrary and loud and soft and gentle and yet somehow all at once. "It made me realize that I may have been ... hasty in my ... reaction towards Akira. Even if he is a vampire."

The last he couldn't help, and it startled a laugh out of his daughter. "He is a good boy actually, you know? I don't think Fen could do any better than him, especially since they are part of the same band." Then silence, for a moment, and he dreaded what she would say.

Jöra had always been the most perspective of his children, due at least in part to growing up where she did, but probably also because she was, in a way, the oldest of his children. The one to inherit more of her mother's blood than her fathers, making her age the fastest of them.

"Are you in love, father?", she asked eventually, and he closed his eyes against the emotions this simple question brought up, his teeth digging on another so hard it hurt.

He hadn't been in love anymore since Angrboda, not once, and yet Jöra had picked up on it with just one small confession.

"Maybe", he not-quite lied, then relented: "Yes, I think so." His voice was but a whisper, stifled by his need to keep his feelings at bay.

There was another silence, then, carefully, carefully non-judgmental: "Why do I feel like congratulations aren't in order?"

She sounded so much like her mother in that moment, the way she had been when Loki had met her. Curious and empathic and more straight-forward than what was good for her. _”Your brother is kind of a jerk, did you notice?”_

"It is ... not the best moment right now. Maybe we can talk at another time?" _When my_ _darling_ _Anthony isn't here, ready to flee if I so much as utter his name._

There was confusion in her voice when she agreed - of course, he rarely put anything, anyone, before his children. But Anthony was an exception, someone he would do most everything to protect. Especially when the price to pay was no more than to leave his daughter in curiosity a bit longer.

"But this was not why you called", he changed the topic.

"No, I ... actually, I was calling about Christmas. When to come over and such." A hesitation, just a moment, but Loki had lived a life depending on noticing such things in time to push Thor out of the way of whatever attack was coming, and there wasn't much that surprised him.

Jöra did. "Do you _want_ me over? I mean, I don't know who you are seeing, but I don't much care for the feast beyond the cookies and I'm sure Mary would keep some for me. So if you want to celebrate as a couple I can come up another time?"

"Are you ... are you giving me room?" Loki couldn't quite believe it. Could feel the amused disbelief make his face slack, his eyes wide.

Jöra chuckled, the sound even deeper than her voice. "Of course. I heard someone say that's the appropriate way to act when your parent is dating a new partner."

A new partner. Dating. Looking again at Anthony who was doing a quite good job at pretending he wasn't listening in Loki couldn't quite believe that she had used this words for him. Couldn't quite hope that they might ever come true.

"You are always welcome", he said instead because he would never not welcome his children. "Do you know when you will be here?"

There was some small commotion on the other end of the phone, Jöra speaking to someone else in the hushed tone of a different language - Japanese, Loki guesses, though with Allspeak working for him he never had to learn another language and couldn't be fully sure - before she returned to the phone. "Sorry, there's someone sitting in my outer office and pestering my assistant - May's a sucker for politeness and she can't say no to the people here - anyway, flight plans, yes. Er ... yeah, my planes coming in at the 21st, but I have meetings and inspections for two days and then the evening with the guys because they want to warm up for Christmas ... I can come over sometime around midday at the 24th?"

"That would be great." Though ... "Don't come earlier than you can. If you turn up and sleep the whole time ..."

He could hear her eye roll through the phone. "Don't worry, I promise I get enough sleep."

Chuckling he had to admit that she was probably right - he _was_ worrying too much. At least when it came to Jöra who had always known to take her rest when she needed it. "Then I will see you at the 24th."

"I'm looking forward to it."

"Me, too. Have a good ... evening, my precious jewel."

"And a good day to you, too, pappa. Now let me run and rescue May from the polite onslaught."

He laughed, and heard her return it with equal mirth, before a click in the phone told him that she had ended the call.

Still smiling he turned back to his pet.

Only to be greeted by eyes wide from fear.

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Er ... sorry for this evil evil cliffhanger?  
> I wasn't planning on it but when I wrote the next chapter this is how I had to end it ... sorry ^^'


	75. Eavesdroppers never hear any good

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late update (especially after that evil cliff hanger ^^') and also me not responding to your lovely comments but I only came in now from a con and editing this chapter was really the last thing I'm going to do before falling asleep (sorry also for it being very sloppily edited, I hoped you'll like it anyway ^^').
> 
> EDIT: is has been pointed out to me that I succeeded in making the cliffhanger from the last chapter even more evil. sorry? ^^'

Louis had magic fingers, Tony had to admit as he followed him up into his office. His muscles, stiff and painful only half an hour before, were now loose and rolling like a well-oiled machine (and he should know, what with the armor and him being an engineer and all). When he flopped down on his folded blanket and pulled his newspapers closer - those few he had left - he barely even felt a sting anymore.

For a while they were sitting there silently, giving Tony a chance to read through the news of the last week, Louis presence so close and steady warming him more than any heater could.

He wasn't paying attention to what Louis was doing, not really. Not beyond half-listening to the clicking of the keyboard and the rustling of letters being opened and unfolded. The low hiss the man made when something wasn't quite as he wanted it to - something that had scared him at first and was now nothing but a background noise that simply belonged to the man.

Well, alien.

When he finally looked up it was because a strange silence seeped through his mind, a lack of clicks and crinkling that was filled with the irregular breathing of someone very surprised. Looking up he found Louis staring down at a letter. Without seeing the page he couldn't see who it was from but the look on Louis' face was ... worrying. Intense. Scared? Angry? He couldn't quite understand it and unease settled in his chest.

When Louis closed his eyes and took slow, carefully measured breaths, the kind one took to calm down, it actually worried Tony even more, a feeling like falling down a dark, steep slope without any idea what may lie ahead.

"Louis?", he asked, carefully, his voice too shy and fragile and still too bold in his ears. "Is ... are you okay?"

Green eyes sprang open immediately, their gaze finding him only moments before warm fingers reached for him, carded through his hair in a gesture that should be demeaning and was only warm comfort. "Just a party I need to attend and forgot about, nothing serious", he said, his voice so warm and steady and Tony wondered if he was being lied to. Surely a mere party wouldn't have him in such a state? Yet he couldn't pursue the thought for Louis continued: "And you, sweet? How far have you come in your pursuit of knowledge?"

Oh.

_Oh._

He ... he was almost through with the papers. And he had tried to avoid thinking about it but ...what would Louis have him do once he was? Would he be send out of the room, to help Jean or Mary with their chores? Not that he minded helping, both of them were nice and he had been given far worse tasks in the past, just ... he _liked_ the calm time with Louis. Liked sitting here and reading and listening to the other type away on his computer (even if it was an apple).

For a moment he considered lying. Simply saying that he still hadn't reached half of it or whatever. But then he saw the way his papers were arranged and he knew that wasn't an option; Louis would see through that lie in a heartbeat.

_And he warned me to never lie to him._

"I'm ... almost done", he admitted slowly. Heat pooled in his neck and he scratched at the skin over the collar. _Please, don't send me away._

A slow smile appeared on Louis' thin lips, too small to be anything but deliberate, yet also strangely genuine. "Then we'll have to find something other for you to read after, I think", he said, and Tony couldn't quite believe his words even when the tension started to drain out of his back. "Is there a book you wish for, sweet? Or something else?"

The question came out of nowhere. It took him a moment just to understand what he was being asked, that Louis offered him any book he might like – told him that he would be allowed to keep these moments with the man that he had come to treasure as much as the hours with Sigyn in the garage. Yet even when he did he came up with nothing.

 _A book_. Tony Stark hadn't read a book in years, preferring to make his own outstanding SciFi-visions come true to reading them.

Though he suspected he would come up blank even if that weren't the case. "I ... can I think about it?"

The smile playing around Louis' lips grew. "Of course. Whenever you are ready."

Relieved and grateful Tony tried to return the smile with one of his own, though it felt small and hesitant on his lips, especially compared to his normal ones.

 _Bang-Bang-Bong_.

Tony had flinched back before he even realized that they were still alone in the room, scraping his hands on the floor in his haste. Though the burn was nothing compared to the fear swallowing him in its dark, cloying embrace, hooks grasping his heart and wrenching it painfully down.

_What is that sound? Is it - are we still alone - who is coming - will I have to go back - what is happening - Louis? - what - whatwhatwhat_

A hand in his hair, heavy and rough and still, keeping him grounded in reality. Awareness returned with a snap, to the familiar hand petting him. The cushioning blanket under his knees. The warmth of the room around him, gentle and soft against the rougher scraping of new clothes on a skin grown too used to going without.

Awareness of the man sitting next to him, drawing him in against his knee until he could smell his frosty green odor under the duller fabric of the trousers. Could feel his warmth under his skin, the steadiness that calmed him more than anything else. When he shifted to see his face he saw him smile, his eyes full of a tenderness that made him want to hide against the trousers rather than acknowledge that he had seen it.

Not that it helped his embarrassment went he saw Louis reach for his cell phone and realized that he had been succumbing to a panic attack because of a loud weird-ass _ring tone_.

His cheeks heated and he felt his eyes going wide. Hastily he tucked his face down again, hoping against better judgement to hide his reaction just in time.

Thankfully, Louis was answering the phone and would hopefully forget what had happened. "I did not expect you to call me, princess. It is a pleasure to hear from you."

There was a laugh coming from the other end of the speaker, though the words following were too muffled for Tony to make even out whether they ere male or female.

Yet it had Louis respond with a mixture of quite seriousness and amusement that he had never heard on him. "Of course you can", he said. "I was merely inquiring to know whether you need help burying the body."

_What?!_

Tony hoped fervently that this was only a figure of speech.

"Kyoto, if I remember correctly?"

Louis knew someone in Japan?

"He can always bring his boyfriend."

Piecing conversations together from one side hadn't ever been Tony's favorite pastime - there was a reason he had given Jarvis the ability to spy on phones. Yet even he could hear the ominousity ringing in this sentence.

Which made the following even stranger. "I'll call him back myself", Louis said, hos voice one of promise "Maybe we can squeeze some musical in between their schedule."

Who was Louis trying to please so much? A friend? Like the one that had had Mary and Jean in such a state the other day?

A shiver ran down his spine at the thought. He really, really hoped not. And if, that he would never ever meet them.

Slowly he looked up to see whether he would learn something from Louis' face - only to have him meet his eyes with a reassuring smile. So very much unsure of what to think of this Tony just tried to put his confusion in his eyes.

It ... didn't get him exactly what he wanted, but the hand petting his neck sure felt nice and he felt himself unwind a bit while Louis played with the hairs peeking out over the collar. It eased the itch he had to move and demand to know what was going on, and he leaned against the hand. Maybe it would help him settle down until he either got his questions answered or he could voice them without interrupting the call and make Louis angry.

"I have ... found someone I like."

_What?!_

Tony kept himself calm, forced his muscles to relax the way Natasha had taught him for when he had to pretend he was unconscious, even while his thoughts raced through his head at neck-breaking speed.

Had Louis actually ... sought a pet? Somehow he hadn't gotten that impression from him - the way he kept Tony was nice, and good, but it felt a bit improvised. Surely he would have had a mattress at the ready if he had planned for Tony all the time? Had thought whether to allow him clothes or sit at the table or how to have him spend his time in advance?

Or was everything just a calculated move?

The thought froze him, and Louis' next words made the cold in his chest even worse.

"It made me realize that I may have been ... hasty in my ... reaction towards Akira. Even if he is a vampire."

 _Did_ _Louis plan for a vampire?_ He had never seen those around, but maybe the Mistress was dealing with them as well. It would make sense, after all - they were stronger and faster, much more of a challenge than Tony could ever provide, and who was to say that there wasn't a room in the basement he hadn't been shown that hid the manacles and equipment to keep a vampire prisoner?

"Maybe", Louis said above him, his voice strange. What had she been asking? Whether he was regretting getting Tony instead of this vampire he had been interested in before?

"Yes, I think so." So quiet, as if he didn't want for Tony to hear it.

Dread pooled in Tony's stomach. If he was right ... would Louis even keep him? Or would he turn him out now that he knew that Tony wasn't the kind of fighting machine his fellow Avengers were?

 _Louis isn't like this_ , he tried to tell himself. _He's kind and patient and ... he's been happy to massage you this very morning._

_He's been happy to have his hands all over your skin ..._

Tony swallowed, hard. When he looked up at the man he could see his brow furrowed, not in confusion but in concentration, and something approaching pain in his eyes and the set of his mouth. _Please, please be the man I_ _think_ _you are._

"It is ... not the best moment right now. Maybe we can talk at another time?"

_What are you talking about?_

"But this was not why you called."

Tony tried to lean forward a bit more without alerting Louis to the change in bis position, yet even though he succeeded he could only understand a few words from the other end of the receiver. Like ... Christmas? Frowning he remembered someone say something about a daughter coming over for Christmas every year.

"Are you ... are you giving me room?"

Looking up again he could see Louis make a WTF face. Yet before he could relax into the amusement he heard something that had his blood freeze again.

"You are always welcome. Do you know when you will be here?"

She would really come? Somehow Tony hadn't thought about it, but ... of course she would come. She had been here every year, and Louis was her father, and ... Tony's finger nails clawed so deep into his thighs that it hurt even through the thick fabric of his trousers. Meeting new people had been okay all his life - he had been forced to do so practically from the day of his birth -, and while he had been but another, though highly prized, slave there wasn't anything he could do about being shown off, but somehow ... somehow he had thought that he wouldn't have to endure that anymore. That there wouldn't be another new face, and another, and he would be ...

Dimly he heard Louis make arrangements for her arrival, heard him laugh at whatever his daughter said, all the while feeling his blood curse through his body like half-frozen slush. Pondering the possibility that maybe Louis would get rid of him - gift him to her? - and that there was someone coming over who would _see_ and _know about him._

When Louis ended the call and smiled at him he couldn't bring himself to return it.

 

 


	76. I can't let you go

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I just don't want to be afraid anymore."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay, I think AO3 had some problems yesterday? Anyway, here's the new chapter.   
> Please prepare for more emotions and keep your blankets close (or whatever else you strangle instead of me ^^)

To see these eyes, big and beautiful and expressive, filled with so much terror - it swept any thought of the party or even his daughter from his mind. In their stead rose magic on a surge of sudden, mind-numbing rage, intend on destroying anything that might even think of scaring his Anthony. Glorious and powerful and destructive enough to leave a whole planet a wasteland. The whole universe, if he had to.

Only years of battling that very same rage whenever Thor's stupid not-plans backfired and whoever he had challenged that day had dared to  _touch_ and  _harm_ his brother allowed Loki to keep his magic from boiling over and seek destruction. Instead he balled his hands to tight fists, gritted his teeth and poured every ounce of will into keeping it contained, keeping it  _down were it belonged._ Slowly he exhaled, then counted to ten and inhaled again, before repeating. His magic protested - sparks of green and gold that burst off furiously - and feeling Anthony's fear through the tendrils that always curled around him as if he was a magical North wasn't helping but finally he managed to tame the flames until it was merely an angry grumbling instead of the roar of a house fire.

He took another deep breath and slowly unclenched his fingers. Only when his magic didn’t try to escape again did he dare to look over to Anthony.

The man was watching him with fear in his eyes, his face paler even than before and a rigidity in his whole body that screamed of his need to hide from a predator's gaze. After what he had just watched - Loki trying to quench his magic, the sparks that would have been escaping even with all his willpower used to corral them - Loki couldn't blame him. Other people - people  _used_ to magic and the outbursts happening sometimes - had reacted no different to this all his life.

And yet this was  _Anthony_ . The one his magic swirled around in ways Loki still couldn't understand, not even after hundreds of years of living it with Thor. 

The one he wanted to scare least of all.

It was instinct more than thought that had him slip from his chair and shove it back - wincing at the sound of it scraping over the carpet and hitting the desk - and crouch in front of his darling, one hand on his own thigh, the other between them in an offer of peace, of hope.

"Anthony?" He made his voice as sweet and soft as possible, the way he would speak to his children when they woke from bad dreams, tried to convey that he didn't want to hurt him.  _Never wanted to hurt him._ "My sweet pet, are you alright?"

Anthony swallowed; the motion made his Adam's apple bob hard and seemed to shake him even more. A tremble started in his shoulders and there was a gleam in his eyes from tears that Loki would give anything to prevent.

"Hush", he whispered. "Everything is alright, I’m not angry. You have done nothing wrong." Because he would assume that he was at fault here, wouldn't he?

_Did_ , judging by the way his trembling got worse and he flinched back and Loki felt so helpless - he wanted to hug him, enfold him in his arms and pull him close and kiss him better like he would do with his children when someone had dared to scare them.  _And he couldn't._ Not when Anthony still didn't trust him, when  _he_ was the reason for his fear. 

He had felt wretched back then, when Odin spoke to him of his origin. Told him why he never loved him and destroyed all his hopes for ever gaining the favor and pride of the only father he would ever know.

This here was worse.

There were tears running down Anthony's cheeks now, almost hiding the fear in them with the blur of liquid, and he didn't know how to help him. Didn't know what to do.

He was one of the most powerful beings in this universe, and what was it worth if he couldn’t do anything to help the one he lov-

And then, suddenly, it was as if the Norns for once turned a more favorable eye on him, for Anthony whispered, hesitantly and in a voice tight with fear: "You won't hurt me?"

His promise to his sweet little darling.  _I will never hurt you. I will never rape you. I will never starve you_ . Promises that should be nothing but common decency but had become more than that to someone who had had to live without it for far too long.

And it didn't matter anyway. If it stopped his darling from fearing him - if it allowed Loki to finally give the comfort he ached to - than he would take whatever he could.

"Yes", he said, fervently. "I will never hurt you. I will never allow you to be hurt." And his magic, still so close to the surface, reached out, tendrils that were far softer than most every other form it could take curling along Anthony. Loki had a moment to fear that the man would feel them,  _fear_ them and turn away, and then, suddenly, Anthony was hurling forwards, crashing right into his arms like a drowning man being thrown a rope.

He was warm and desperate and so light compared to Loki's natural strength, so light that he felt, again, reminded of his children with the way he curled into Loki's grip. And yet he was not. Not when he was also muscles coiled tight until they hurt and fear beyond everything a child should ever face.

Fear he had made  _damn sure_ his children never felt, not even when Odin had urged him to remove them from court less any ... accidents happened even against the king's orders. 

But even this memory couldn't rouse his anger enough to take his mind of the moment. Of the feel of skin under his hand, warm and soft and slightly damp the way human skin was. Muscles that shifted just enough to fit better against his form, move his head right under Loki's chin in an unconscious plea for protection, while Anthony's hands clutched on his shirt that he could almost hear the fabric creak. The wide pullover and trousers Anthony had chosen this morning almost hid how strong his trembling had become but there was no way to hide it with how close he burrowed into Loki. No way to hide the smell of fear, either, or the quiet sobs that he tried to stifle against Loki's chest.

It tore at Loki's heart to see the man reduced to this. Reduced to fear by nothing but an instinctive reaction brought on by Loki wanting to throttle whoever had scared him, especially when there was nothing Loki wanted to do more than ... than have him strong again. Even when he was still his enemy Loki couldn't not admire the Iron Man who had become a warrior by the strength of his mind, not his body. A warrior who wasn't even that dangerous alone by his mind's creation but due to the alluring brilliance of this very same mind, almost trapping Loki by flinging line after line of insult at him that did nothing to hide the sparkling wit behind them. Insults that made Loki want to linger and trade snubs until one of them couldn't stand it anymore and ...  _oh_ . He knew how he had, all too often, ended up flyting with a truly worthy partner, especially those of aelfir origin.

And Anthony was a truly worthy opponent. Flyting with him would have been ...  _breathtaking_ . The chance of a lifetime. 

Carefully he dared to put his arms more fully around the man, pulled him in even closer and started rubbing circles in his back. Sounds fell from his lips - soft reassurances he didn't even know where in English or not, but stayed soft and gentle and loving all the same. Because he couldn't stand the thought of Anthony being afraid. Afraid of him.

_And that didn’t change only yesterday, did it? Not only since you took him in and fed him and gave him a safe place to hide. No, this started a long time before._

_When was the last time you fought the Avengers and meeting Iron Man wasn't part of the fun?_ Fire and Chaos, _even_ they _noticed - you do remember Barton taunting you when you didn't go through with the museum thing because Stark wasn't there, wasn’t healed enough for active duty after the stunt Dr. Destiny pulled a week before? And you do remember how angry you were after that, angry enough that you tore into the wannabe villain’s lair and_ convinced _him to give himself up to SHIELD?_

_And it wasn’t only that, was it? You do remember checking him out whenever you managed to get him out of his armor, don’t you? Especially since you are working for him. He may not remember you but you attended his parties for two years yet, and you do know what a striking figure he is in a suit that fits his ass and shoulders like a second skin._

A short, cut-off motion and he remembered that such thoughts were shamefully inappropriate for the moment. For  _ever_ even, maybe, depending how this all worked out. Though Fury agreeing was ... a good step towards keeping in touch with his sweet.

A sweet that he needed to look out for, yet, and he certainly couldn't do that when he was caught up in his own thoughts of a future that might never come to pass.

Forcing his mind to the present he made sure his next words were in a language Anthony could understand. "Are you feeling better, my Anthony?"

The grip on his sweater changed, then he felt the body move against him when Anthony nodded. For a moment longer he remained warm and solid against his skin, then he pulled back, rubbing angrily at his eyes to remove the traces of tears while hiding them further by looking away.

It ached, to see him this hurt and not helping him. At least he could ... Reaching out he gently touched a tense shoulder, tried to remind him that he was here and he didn't have to go through this alone.

Not that it seemed to help. With a sudden move he looked back, up, to meet his gaze with eyes that were still wet from tears. "I can't do this anymore", he whispered and it sounded so terribly terrible desolate that it broke Loki's heart. "I just don't want to be afraid anymore."

_If I only could make you I would give everything_ , he thought. Tried to show this to his darling by slowly, carefully running his thumb over what skin he could reach from where his hand still rested near his neck.

For once it wasn't helping much if the way Anthony's face crumbled was anything to go by. And even though he ducked forward, hid himself against Loki's chest ... it didn't feel like victory. Not when the man was still trembling so much.

"Can you ... is there anything I can do to make you feel safe?", he pleaded. If it would make him feel better ... he couldn't think of anything that he would deny his sweet.

Which was of course the moment when the hands fisting his shirt tightened and Anthony mumbled, low and carefully as if he feared to be punished: "You could let me go."

Let him go. Now. When the Mistress was still out there, and her henchmen and Anthony's former owners and all the other people who might have memories and pictures and videos of his sweet little darling being abused. Might leak them just out of spite and fear when they learned that he was free again. Free again to speak against them and work against them and have them put down like the scum they were. No.  _No_ .  _Never_ .

He only realized he had said it out loud when he felt the body curling into his stiffen, a hard board suddenly instead of the man seeking protection, seeking comfort. Could smell fear and shock from where his nose was all but buried in his Anthony's hair.

A tiny part of him wanted to take it back, wanted to assure him that he would of course let him go. That he had no reason to be afraid of retribution for speaking his mind because Loki would never lay a hand on him. But this part of him was overruled by fear and rage and the thought of Anthony, out there and unprotected like a wounded whale among sharks and he would  _never ever allow this_ .

Gripping Anthony's chin and tipping it carefully, gently up he caught his frightened gaze with his own. "Anthony, I cannot let you go. Not as long as ... you are not  _safe_ out there. And you are mine and I will never stand for you to be all on your own."

By the way Anthony's eyes stayed far too bright it wasn't reassurance enough.

  


  


  


  


  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know that this ended in something of a cliffy again? And Tony is in a really bad place here?   
> Can I just bribe you with telling you that there is something really really good going to happen to Tony in a few chapters? Like world-changing good? (Nope, he's not going to figure out that Louis is Loki. He's also not going to go back home)


	77. You don't want to let me go

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can I just say thank you again to everyone of you who is reading this, leaves kudos and comments and bookmarks this monster? Honestly, I still remember the day when I started writing this story and I imagined it becoming maybe half as long as it is now, and my English was a lot worse than it is now. I'm really not the kind of person who has the stamina to write a story for longer than a year, let alone three and a half. So yeah, without you I wouldn't be still writing this and I'm really really grateful that you are still here and reading. Thanks.
> 
> (I'm ... almost sure I should give you a happy chapter after this. Sorry. Two more chapters, then you can go cry all the happy tears you want. For now only darkness and fear and all the other less happy things)

He had seen Louis use magic before. Most of the times it was silent and invisible but sometimes there were those sparks of green fire and a shimmer in the air, like dust caught in the light of the sun and changed into dancing gold.

This was anything but. No gentle dance or glitter on a breeze or the feel of silk sliding over his skin. This here was angry green mosquitoes biting without provocation and jealous yellow clinging to his skin like poisonous mist, zapping him as if lightning raced through it or the feeling of nerves coming to life again after you had been in the cold too long. What he could see of Louis' face under the strands of hair that had fallen forward showed him clenched teeth and dark, alien marks all over it. He faintly remembered them from an afternoon that felt like eons ago when he had fallen into this man's arms, had been amazed about those markings scrolling all over his skin.

Now he wasn't. There was a reason humans of earlier centuries had painted their faces with war colors and by the fear choking him he now knew why.

It was hard to breathe, hard to  _think_ , hard to do anything but sit here, paralyzed. The sound of someone gasping for breath filled his ears but he couldn't focus on it, not with how much his chest hurt and why did his mouth taste of iron and what had he done to make Louis so angry he needed to know because he couldn't avoid doing it again otherwise and a part of him was trying to remind him that  _he was Tony Stark_ and that meant he didn't fear anything that he was strong enough to take on everything life threw at him  _Stark men are made of Iron_ but this was Louis and he couldn’t win against Louis and he had promised and why was he shaking and why was Louis angry and  _what was he supposed to do?_

And then Louis moved, was suddenly right in front of him and Tony couldn't help but flinch back even though it was, somehow, a bit easier to breathe when Louis wasn't looming over him so much anymore, when he was kneeling there. A hand stretched between them, palm open, and Tony didn't know what he wanted - what did Louis want? And should he give it to him?  _Could_ he give it?

"Anthony? My sweet pet, are you alright?"

And it sounded so sweet and honest that a part of him yearned to lean forward and bury into him, have him comfort him. That very same part that still remembered how long it took his team to notice the injuries he took in each battle - how long it took him to trust them enough to let them know right away when he was hurt instead of taking care of any wounds on his own and then curling up in his work shop, never letting anyone close but Rhodey and sometimes Pepper.

The memory of being alone and in pain after a battle clashed with Steve lecturing him on taking care of himself while his steady hands gently cleaned and bandaged his wound and Natasha sat near, swearing at something in throat-hurting Russian and Clint made funny faces behind Steve's back. Clashed again with the memory of Ty Stone asking that very same question just two months ago, a day before he had grown tired of his game and shown his real colors, throwing Tony down and ...

Clashed again with the image right in front of his eyes, of Louis sitting there, as nonthreatening as possible, and asking whether he was ... okay?

_I'm not okay,_ he knew, knew that  _Louis_ knew, and he didn't know what to think. Felt himself tremble and his eyes burn and his head hurt while he tried to make sense of the world.

"Hush." There was a look in Louis' eyes, like he felt as helpless as Tony did and why would he-? "Everything is alright, I’m not angry. You have done nothing wrong."

Flinching back he stared, his eyes flickering between the hand still resting on the floor, and those eyes that urged him to put his trust into this man, and the other hand, resting harmlessly on his thigh. But he had seen Louis move, faster than he could see, and the memory of how dangerous this man was let his fear spike even more and why had he ever forgotten that Louis could eat him alive every moment he wanted to?

_I will never hurt you._

A promise, given with the same fervor in which he said  _You are mine_ and that he had chosen to believe because he couldn't live in eternal fear anymore without losing himself. 

_He ... hasn't hurt me._

The thought was almost alien, hesitant, like a stone dropped into an unmoving lake, disturbing the mirror of it’s surface with it’s impact. Stopped the mad race of his thoughts. And like that stone it left ripples across his mind’s surface, his thoughts calming down while he tried to process what he had so unexpectedly realized.

Aside from the slight sting of angry magic there hadn't been pain, just anger that hadn't been expressed as anything like flowing fists or kicks or even just harsh words. And he knew that that didn’t mean anything, knew that abuse could come in various forms that didn’t have to be one of those most common ones, knew that scaring someone could be just as abusive as that.

But here he was and he was unharmed, and there was Louis, kneeling in front of him with the most stricken expression and a face that begged for forgiveness. That same Louis who had, again and again, calmed him down whenever he got scared at anything the other did. Had told him more than once that he was safe, that he wouldn’t harm him – hadn’t harmed him once – and given him any reason to trust him.

And yet believing that maybe Louis really wouldn't hurt him  _even in anger_ was harder than believing into the ARK-reactor, or escape from a terrorist group. Hard like  _I can be a hero._

It was even harder to open his mouth and beg that he had been right to believe Louis, right to trust him, when he asked: "You won't hurt me?"

For one, never-ending moment they were both so silent, neither of them moving or speaking or even breathing.

And then something seemed to light in Louis' face. "Yes", he promised and his voice was so honest it almost hurt. "I will never hurt you. I will never allow you to be hurt."

_I will never hurt you._ Again. And he felt himself react to it, felt almost compelled to move forward and curl into Louis but before he could even question the urge he felt hot skin against his cheek and another's breath in his hair and then there were arms holding him close - hugging him - and he couldn't hold back the pressure in his chest anymore, could feel it erupt from him in sobs that were almost as painful as the pressure had been, like glass splintering and wounding him all the way up his windpipe, but at least his chest didn't hurt as much anymore. And then the arms holding him grew even tighter and it was better, as if Louis could hold him together, flesh and sanity and glass and all, and he couldn't help but try to move closer, his hands clenching in fabric that he couldn't remember snatching. The low murmur of a strange language reached him, or maybe he just couldn't remember English anymore but it didn't matter, not as long as it was soft and gentle and reminded him with every soft syllable, every breath tickling warmth against his ear, that Louis wouldn't hurt him.

He didn't know how long he was sitting here like this, but Louis was patiently waiting him out, giving him all the time he needed as if he needed another reason to like the man. A man that he shouldn't like, what with him being the one that had made Tony so afraid this time. His muscles tensed at the thought and he fleetingly thought of moving away but he was too warm, too comfortable - too weak now that the crying had subsided - and he just curled back.

Yet it seemed Louis had noticed for he asked, still so gently: "Are you feeling better, my Anthony?"

_My Anthony. You are mine. I will never hurt you._

He nodded in answer but he couldn't stop himself thinking  _He never promised he wouldn't scare me_ . And that ...

Trying to shove that thought away he shoved himself more upright. A tightness on his cheeks told him that he had actually cried and he rubbed over it, angry that he had bawled, again, even though ( _Stark men are made of iron_ ) he hadn't for so long. And why did it have to be  _Louis_ who saw him like this?

A soft touch on his shoulder was an unavoidable reminder that the man was still here, was still watching him and even though he knew (hoped) that Louis wouldn't judge him he couldn't help but open his mouth, couldn't help the helpless bitterness and pain pouring out. "I can't do this anymore. I just don't want to be afraid anymore."

Not that he had even the slightest idea how this could happen. A life without fear ... it seemed like a fairy dream, an illusion that he could barely even imagine, even less think of how to make it happen.

And yet there were fingers rubbing along his neck that reminded him of being safe. Not fearless, but safe was a step there, wasn't it?

By the way his chest felt still so empty, so dark, it wasn't. Hiding his face against Louis he tried to escape that terrible truth.

"Can you ... is there anything I can do to make you feel safe?"

_Anything so he would feel safe?_ Tony felt hysterical laughter bubble up in him; there was no way he would ever feel safe - completely utterly entirely safe - again until he was back home, with Jarvis keeping track of him and his team only a call away, no matter how nice Louis was and how safe he made him feel compared to the months before. 

It was probably the recklessness following the hysteria that made him say: "You could let me go."

It took him less than a heartbeat to realize that this had been a mistake. Louis went utterly rigid against him and he felt ... whorls of darkness running over his skin, telling him Louis' decision even before he heard him say: "No. Never."

It shouldn't have come as a surprise. Not knowing that Louis had bought him like a dog and then kept him instead of letting him go, not knowing of his possessiveness, culminating into a collar remaining still snug and unforgettable around Tony's neck. And yet the fervor with which Louis said it - as if it was completely unthinkable, as if Tony being free had never ever featured in his future plans - stung. Tony couldn't help move back from him, scared again - partly of punishment, but partly also of being stuck here, in a house that was still nothing more but a gilded cage under all the niceties and the good food and all the soft words. 

And there was one thing that he knew for sure - he would rather go down fighting than live the life of a caged bird.

Louis must have felt his reaction - no surprise there - for he brought a hand up to his chin, still gentle, claws sheathed, and tipped him upwards until Tony couldn't help but look into his eyes. His voice was equally gentle when he explained: "Anthony, I cannot let you go. Not as long as ... you are not safe out there. And you are mine and I will never stand for you to be all on your own."

_I cannot let you go until you are safe._ Until he was safe? When had he  _ever_ been safe? He was  _Howard Stark's son_ , the threat of getting kidnapped had been hanging over his head from the moment of his birth. Now it had just happened - again - but that didn't mean it would be the last time.

But the iron look in those green eyes made it more than clear that this was not a discussion Louis was prepared to have with him.

It shouldn't have come as a surprise that Louis would react like this, and yet Tony couldn't help but feel disappointment curling through him, dark gray clouding where that feeling of trust and safety had shone bright only an hour ago.

Swallowing he nodded, then turned away, hiding his thoughts from the much too observant gaze of his  _owner_ . The collar suddenly shaved against his skin but he refused to react to it, instead looked down at the papers in his lap. Remembered the joy he had felt when Louis had promised him that he could choose something else to read once he had gone through them. A joy that vanished now under the realization of how complacent he had become, how the eternal fear and fighting against people trying to break him had worn on him until suddenly being treated nice had made him so grateful he had just gone with it, had even forgotten to plan for when he was free again.

_I may not have ever owned a slave, but I know how to take care of a stubborn pet._

Cold washed through him. That  _had_ been Louis' words, hadn't they? Back then, when Tony was still in a cage and Louis trying to buy him.

Had he ... had all the niceness been only a trick to make him forget about his situation? Was he trying to break Tony in a way that he hadn't even thought of before?

Did he truly respect Tony or was it just a way to gain a new loyal servant?

The gong for lunch rescued him. Yet when he followed Louis down the stairs he couldn't shake the doubts.


	78. Mistrust

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fucking finally, Loki is actually talking to Tony. Took him only 200000 words.
> 
> Sorry for not having answered any of your lovely comments, I'm a bit busy writing right now but I'll definitely come back to it. Thank you so very very much to you all.

Anthony had lost his trust in him.

It shouldn't have come as a surprise, not when he had bought him, then kept him as if he truly was a pet or slave. Not with how he had treated him - he might not have intended for it to be demeaning when he refused him clothes or made him sleep on a rug, or even when he made him kneel instead of allowing him on a chair for meals. Hadn't thought at all sometimes, and the few times when he had realized that how Anthony would take it he had sometimes continued it because the man would expect him to. Would be even more suspicious and wary if he treated him the way he had come to want to treat him, just to make the transition into his care as non-upsetting as possible but he was more than aware that Anthony had taken it quite differently.

 _And yet even through all of this he had seen the man's trust in him grow._ Had seen it in the shy smiles and the way he leaned into Loki's touch. Had seen it in the spark of _Tony Stark_ coming alive again by teasing him and daring to speak his mind, at least sometimes. By daring to go against him in a _fight_.

All of this was gone now, with just one careless gesture, a few careless words. And it hadn't even been that he had somehow scared him by talking to Jörmundgandr or even the anger afterwards when his magic simply flipped at seeing him scared – Anthony had actually forgiven him both. No, it was him overreacting when Anthony had actually trusted him enough to ask for the one thing he had to wish for more than anything else.

_Freedom._

And Loki, being the Avatar of Chaos  _which was freedom incarnate_ had  _denied_ him.

If the Norns were watching they had to be laughing so hard their whole tapestry got tangled.

To make matters worse Loki  _wanted_ to let Anthony go. No matter how much it hurt to think of losing his sweet  darling , of never having him lean into him again or search him out again with all that trust in his eyes  - the thought of never seeing him again free and strong and commanding at the top of the world was  _worse_ . He would rather lose his pet than Tony Stark, no matter  how it broke his heart.

Yes, the Norns were laughing indeed.

However, he had no idea how to convey this to Anthony, even though he knew that he had to. At lunch the man sat next to him as usual, his chair only a few feet away but it could as well have been a few galaxies. He was sitting on the edge as far from Loki as he could, running risk to lose his seating entirely. Talked to Jean and Mary almost like usual and even shared a joke with Sigyn, yet the only time he responded to Loki at all was when he asked him, and then it was only as much as he needed to say to answer before he quickly turned to Jean again.

Sigyn noticed. Of course she did, she was a guard of Asgard, trained to spot all those dangers that a prince might not notice. More so, she was a woman of Asgard who had grown up seeing what most Aesir men wouldn’t notice until it hit them with a sledgehammer.

Yet when she threw him a questioning look he ignored it. He had no interest in sharing his Thor-like idiocy, and confiding in her wouldn't do much good anyway.

Training was a disaster. On their way out of the kitchen he had seen Anthony throw a look at the phone and it didn't take a genius to realize what he was thinking of. Nor was it when his gaze flickered over to the door and his shoulders stiffened when he remembered that he wasn't free to walk out.

It made Loki want to throw him over his shoulder and carry him up into his room and telling him that he was safe here, that he didn’t need to run away, that being out there was dangerous … but that was what had brought this situation up, wasn’t it? So he forced himself to be still, his fingers to unclench and his face to betray not the least hint that he had seen him looking for an escape when he saw Anthony’s gaze flickering to him.

After that Loki was happy to keep the training short, even skipped over his one-on-one training with Sigyn - he was so distracted she might end up hurting him with some stupid move and then never let him live it down.

And Anthony wasn't faring any better - where he had breezed through yesterday he was stumbling and over-balancing today, almost fell two times if not for Sigyn's quick reflexes. The one time Loki came too close he even evaded him entirely, then stood there, cowering as good as possible without actually cowering, his eyes big from fear and -

Loki had to turn away, his fists balled so tight he could feel his nails digging into his palms and his teeth grinding on each other that pain flared up from base of his head all the way up to his right eye.

Only the fear of what Anthony would think if he changed his routine now made him take him up into his office after a short and tense shower. Not that he got anything done or Anthony any sleep. He was sitting there, shuffling his papers and wording letters at several business associates that he couldn't leave to  Mikey \- he really hated the end of the Earth year;  he just hoped he wouldn’t have to tackle that next year without Diara again \- and generally tr ied to not make too much a mess of things while also ignoring the tense bundle of human trying to hide himself under his blanket.

Loki let him pretend to be asleep for an hour, hoping that the rest had at least replenished some of the energy Anthony had spend during training, before he gave in and called Sigyn up to take him over to the garage.

And then he just sat there, his face buried in his hands, and tried not to despair over the fact that this wasn't working anymore.

Those big brown eyes that he had always thought hid everything when in truth they just begged for someone to _look_. He had seen them scared and cocky and focused like a dragon about to charge onto a trespasser during their fights, those few times he had seen Tony Stark out of his suit. Had seen them again, when he took him into his house - scared but willing to fight and, increasingly, trusting.

He had never seen him desperate, and while fear might make his heart twist the raw desperation he could see there now left him feeling cold inside. He had been drawn to the man because of his mind and wit, his willingness to fight to win even against overwhelming odds, his will to never surrender. It had never occurred to him that even Anthony might have a limit, a point at which he could break. Even less that _he_ might be the reason that he reached it.

A memory flashed through his mind, a daydream he had entertained, a long time ago: of Tony Stark, kneeling at his feet and begging for mercy.

The thought had been improbable then, just a fancy that had made his anger a bit easier to bears. Today, it made him sick.

And all because of a few thoughtless words. Words that had come from the part of him that was scared beyond reason at the thought of Anthony in danger but that the man would have taken quite differently.

And how could he not? Tony wanted to be free, had admitted to it being the one thing that would make him feel safe, and Loki had told him that it wasn't happening any time soon.

_Did I even tell him that this isn't permanent?_

The stray though caught him off-guard but ...  _had_ he told Anthony that this was only a temporary solution? Of course he had, he wouldn't not say it when it was the one thing that  Anthony dreaded the most.

And yet a tiny nagging voice from the back of his mind insisted that even if he had  _said_ it the way Tony had reacted indicated that he hadn't  _heard_ it. Hadn't understood that Loki  _meant_ it when he said that he wanted to see him free again, no matter how it broke his heart.

A phoenix was never meant to live in a cage.

"I'm an idiot", he said, the alien syllables of the Aesir tongue standing out sharply against the far too human interior of his Midgardian office.

If Anthony thought he was going to live out his life like this, a pet within a golden cage - no wonder was he withdrawing, was looking for escape again. Loki wouldn't expect anything less from him and now that he thought about it he could feel hesitant relief curl through the pain - if he was trying to escape then Tony Stark wasn't as buried under pain and misery as he had feared.

It also meant that he knew what to do now to regain his trust.

  


?Â¿

  


Dinner was a quite affair, with Mary and Jean trying  to keep a conversation  going  despite the cloying atmosphere. He could see the way their gazes were flickering between him and Anthony, sitting at his usual place by his knees yet making sure that he touched him as little as possible. They might not have the abilities Sigyn possessed but they clearly caught on that something  was amiss, and their careful glances at Anthony made him feel warm inside. As much as they liked him they knew who he was, who he was in relation to Iron Man, and knowing that they were looking out for Anthony  despite serving him  was a relief. 

He knew himself far too good not to fear a slip back into the hate that had clouded his judgement these last years.

When they had finally cleared the dishes - and Loki should know what he had eaten but for once he honestly couldn't remember; steak, maybe? Damn, Jean deserved better than this - he asked them all to leave him and Anthony for the evening. Endured the surprised and curious looks while they helped Jean take the used cutlery out, and the shocked  silence of  Anthony at his side. 

Only when they were finally alone did he turn to his sweet. "We have to talk", he started. Saw his throat bob when he swallowed, and added: "You can sit on the couch, if you want. It might make this easier." Because right now Loki suspected he felt as if Loki was looming over him, and that wasn't the mood he wanted to start this in.

Nor did Anthony for he only hesitated a moment, looking up at him in suspicion, before standing up and walking over to the other couch. Yet what should have been a smooth walk was stilted, hesitant, as if he expected an axe to fall down on him any moment and it just drove home how much Loki had ... _fucked up_ , as they said here.

Anthony looked down at his lap, not saying anything, and Loki resigned himself to having to hold up the whole conversation until he managed to get the other to understand that he wasn't angry, or about to me te out punishment or even just  be  too possessive for anyone's good.

"I don't think I have ever really introduced myself", he started, relieved that at least for now he could follow the words he had planned. "On Earth I'm known as Louis de St. Martin and I own a small business that ... erm ... helps companies with parties and public events. Press conferences, galas, that kind of things."

He watched the man, yet there was barely any reaction to his words. It left him unsure how to react - on one hand, he was a bit relieved, on the other - he had been working for Stark Industries for more than two years now. How come that he still didn't know his name?!

At least some of the wariness had left him and he had stopped hiding his gaze in his lap, instead he kept it trained on a spot somewhere around Loki's collarbone.

He could work with that. As long as he kept in mind that he had to be cautious this should be fine.

"I am also quite known in some circles for only working with ... er ... let's say, mostly upstanding companies. Can't avoid the small crimes fully, but I'm not working with persons who think abuse is just a trivial offense." Which brought to mind several ... individuals that had approached him and smiled and shaken his hands and talked about the good of the world and helping with climate change, only to go home to hit their own spouse. Anger sparked in him and he had to focus on breathing for a moment to regain his equilibrium. 

Burning down that house and making sure the wife left that scumbag after SHIELD had turned up some ... interesting facts after  his _cowardly attack_ had been  _really_ satisfying. 

"As you probably know, finding out who is involved with organized crime and who isn't is not exactly easily done." A small noise from  Anthony , like he couldn't agree more, and Loki felt a bit lighter for it. At least now he could be sure that Anthony was listening. "I, for one, have contacts that are ...  not always acting within the constraints of the law ." Rough and his gang. The Mistress' house. His identity as supervillain. Some other people that helped him keep track of things. Just because he abhorred certain crimes and preferred to appear clean to the public eye didn't mean he actually was. "I have known of the Mistress and her gambling hall for quite a while, now. Of the slave pit ... not so."

And there were those eyes, looking directly into his. Big and bright and stunned. Not yet believing what he offered.

Keeping his voice quiet and calm he went on: "When I first walked down there ... when I saw you ... I wanted to burn that whole place down." He still felt that anger burning through his veins, chasing the surprise and that terrible restlessness that had plagued him for months from his system. And yet his anger then was nothing to the red blazing now; were he to go there today to find his sweet he had no doubt that he would have set fire to it without a second thought and this pure loss of self control should concern him.

It didn't.

Closing his eyes he carefully breathed through his anger, let the controlled inhalation calm him before he lost it again. The last he wanted to do now was to scare his Anthony again.

"When I saw you ... you are a hero, Anthony. No-one deserves to be a slave, but you less than anyone else. I had to get you out. That ... honestly, I didn't think further than how to get you out of there. And then we were suddenly in my car and I realized that if I brought you home your face would be on the front pages of all newspapers within the week and someone was bound to leak something to the press about where you had been the last three months."

He didn't want to look at Anthony after delivering this blow -  _ha_ _s_ _Anthony even thought about what it would mean to be free again?_ \- yet he had to. He was his charge, his responsibility, and he would rather eat glass shards or face him again  in battle  than let his sweet down.

The big eyes and pale face told him all he needed to know about how far ahead Anthony had actually thought. Or maybe he  _had_ thought about it and had then tried to keep from thinking further. Not that Loki blamed him - where he could only guess Anthony  _knew_ what kind of evidence existed out there in the hands of people who didn't care about him the least.

He wanted to reach out, reassure him, but instead he forced his hands to remain on his thighs. Right now it was important that Anthony realized what was at stake or Loki would never be able to pull this plan off.

Would never be able to give his sweet the safety net he needed.

It took  Anthony longer than he had hoped - less than he had feared - to pull himself together and ask, his voice a hoarse whisper like he was trying to hold back tears or choking  on emotions: "I can never go back, can I?"

And i t shouldn't make Loki smile, the way he looked so beaten, but here at least he had some good news he could share right now. "I don't plan on letting them have their way." It came out probably a bit too much as a snarl, but when he saw Anthony look at him with wide, astonished eyes it melted into a smile. "Anthony, you are  _mine_ . And I care about you. I don't know how exactly I'm going to take her down  yet – take  _them_ down - but that doesn't mean I  _won't_ . I have people looking into that slave ring, and they may not be the nicest people of the world but they are good at what they do." Rough was good or he wouldn't have stooped so low as to work with him. As to feel that part of him that connected him to Anthony look at the gang leader and proclaim him  _mine_ , though a lot quieter than when it came to Anthony, or his household, or even the people he employed. "I need to know more about them before I can go against them and hope to have them all thrown into jail" or ripped into shreds; he still wasn't quite sure whether he  sh ould leave them for Anthony to deal with. "but that doesn't mean it will never happen. Or even that it will take long." If Anthony stayed in his house for longer, if he had another freak out like today ... Loki couldn't promise he wouldn't end up burning the city down just to make sure he was safe.

Though right now another nervous breakdown seemed to be the farthest from Anthony's mind. "You mean this", he whispered, his eyes wide open and glistening. As if he was about to cry but it wasn’t the bad kind of tears.

Anthony had been abused and betrayed too often to just trust his words without evidence. Had been, of this Loki had no doubt, betrayed by some of these people that had bought him before or he wouldn’t be so wary of Loki. And yet there was a look in his eyes that told Loki that Anthony had listened to him – listened and _heard_ him – and that he was at least entertaining the thought that Loki might be honest. Was thinking about it.

It wasn’t what Loki wanted – what he wanted was to reach out and take Anthony in his arms, have him smile up at him again with trust and attachment, maybe even affection. But for now, it was what he needed – Anthony thinking about his words, his offer.

And tomorrow, he would prove to him that he meant every word.

  


  


  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anyone wanting to make some last-minute guesses as to how Loki is going to prove it? ^^


	79. Raw Emotions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, you remember when I promised you a good chapter? This is it.
> 
> Just a warning at the beginning: While it is a good chapter it is not actually a happy one (I like my happiness with a lot more fluff and way less raw emotions). So, you know, you might like to grab a tissue? 
> 
> Anyway, hope you like it.
> 
> (PS: Yep, I chose that chapter title because I wanted to avoid spoilers)

Tony had rarely ever felt this tired. Not only physically, but also mentally, worn out so much that he felt too tired even too think.

Small wonder – first the phone call this morning  and all that it brought – the fear rising in him like an abyss of black, Louis comforting him and then betraying him -  _“No. Never”._ Then the awkwardness of the afternoon -  laying down after  a  training  where not one of his limbs seemed to obey him  and not daring to actually  _sleep_ because he couldn't trust Louis anymore.  A nd the n the conversation after dinner.  _"I don't plan on letting them have their way"_ ,  implying that he would let Tony go.

His mind was spinning so wildly he thought he would go mad and all he wished for was to lay down and forget everything, just for a few minutes, so he could wake up in the morning and look at it again with a fresh eye, the way he did whenever he got stuck on a problem with his workshop projects.

I t was no wonder that Tony had fallen asleep as soon as his head touched the pillow. 

Yet where he had slept through almost every night before this time he woke again during the night, thoughts still glowing bright in his mind. The window showed him the almost-dark of a city night, the light reflected even more by the snow covering the garden. In his bed he could hear Louis breathe calmly, maybe a bit slower even than a human - though that could also have been just his imagination. It was definitely too early to be awake, and he was most likely the only one to stir in the house for a few hours yet.

Carefully he turned around, tried to find a good spot to go back to sleep. But even with his body so tired he could feel his joints hurting his mind was up and running now.

And running it did - over everything that Louis had said yesterday, and all that he hadn't.

Louis hadn't been out to get a slave. Which, well, it made sense - apart from his freakout yesterday he hadn't ever thought about it but everything had been improvised, not to mention how often and _fast_ Louis had changed his treatment of Tony whenever he had realized that it upset him.

And this, too - Louis _didn't want to upset him_. Whenever he broke down - from nerves, or a panic attack, or even just a fucking nightmare - he was there and helped him through it. And some of this might be due to his possessiveness but it also showed that he _cared_.

Tony couldn't remember the last time a stranger had actually cared about him, not to mention to the point where he let him cry all over his nice dress shirt. And yes, he wasn't sure whether he could trust this; the part of him that had warned him away from many a man or woman who had tried to get into his good graces by pretending to love him, care for him, was screaming like every alarm bell ever invented, practically lighting him up like a Christmas tree. Yet there wasn't much Louis could gain from acting like he did, not the way those other people had hoped for influence, or money, or a better job.

And maybe he just needed to feel like someone cared about him right now.

Blinking against the tears that threatened to fall from his eyes he turned again. The new angle gave him free view of the man in the bed, seeming so vulnerable now. And yet there was that core of steel that he had seen earlier, when he told Tony that he couldn't inform the rest of the Avengers.

Those gorgeous green eyes, less than half a meter from him when they returned his gaze, stern and yet full of honest regret. "Miss Romanov is a trained spy who will be able to keep this secret, but the rest of your team? If you tell them they will _try_ to keep it secret, but what if they slip up? Or they might just act in a way that will make someone suspicious. And that might not only endanger you but also all the other slaves the Mistress and her ... acquaintances keep."

If he had kicked him in the stomach, Tony thought, it might have had the same effect. Because while he might take risks with his own safety there was no way he would ever want to endanger other.

A sudden image appeared in his mind, of gray eyes that should have been sparkling with life and were dull and lifeless instead. Kat, who should have been Catherine.

If there was any chance of saving her - if Louis' plan included getting everyone else free as well - there was no way he would spoil it. No matter how much it reminded him of the fact that, for all his beautiful phrases, Louis had never outright said that he hadn't known about the slaves before.

_And he is working with criminals._

Looking at him Tony wasn't sure what to think. Louis had never been anything but good to him, gentle and soft-spoken and gifting him almost everything he wanted. And yet neither of his servants had been surprised by his treatment of him. Had never even looked oddly at him being naked and kneeling and Louis giving him orders. And Sigyn, too, had never seemed surprised at what was going on.

It made him just realize that Louis might be even more complicated than he had already thought.

Groaning into his pillow he had to face the fact that he really didn't know the man that held his future in his hands.

  


?Ä¿

  


He must have fallen asleep again because the next time he opened his eyes the pale winter sun was casting her bleary light into the room and Louis sat next to him, a small smile on his face.

"Good morning, pet. I'm sorry for waking you, but if we take much longer Jean will eat without us."

Damn the man for sending such mixed signals.

_Pet_.

And yet still gentle and smiling and apologizing. _Arrgh_.

But he had decided to give him the benefit of the doubt he shoved his misgivings down where they wouldn't show on his face and made himself smile as well. "He can try but I doubt he will eat enough to cover your share."

Louis laughed, the sound startled and surprisingly sweet. "Thanks for giving me the perfect line for the next time he tries that one on me."

Tony grinned. "Just don't tell him that you have it from me."

Louis raised his balled hand to his heart, bowing over it, and his eyes sparkled over the jokily given oath.

It made him feel lighter when he followed Louis into the bathroom to get ready for the day, and when they entered the kitchen he grinned at Jean's joke about people needing far too long in the bath and _still_ not looking beautiful. Though, well, since he was looking at Louis when he said that and then ducked out of the way _very_ fast ... might have something to do with that, too.

They finished their meal in something like peace after Louis, pretending to be outraged, had caught Jean in a hug and thoroughly ruffled his hair, though the man's retailing "Get out of my kitchen before I burn lunch just for you" followed them up into the office. Where Tony settled down on his usual cushion without being told anymore and pulled one of the few remaining magazines closer.

"Anthony."

The soft voice startled him before he had even opened the first page and he looked up to see Louis give him an odd look.

When he saw that he had Tony's attention he licked his lips, his eyes flickering over the desk before he picked something up and held it out for him.

"There is something I haven't told you about me." He took a deep breath, as if bracing for something and Tony couldn’t help but tense up. "It's ... er ... kind of important." Another deep breath, then: "I actually thought you might recognize my name, though seeing as we never spoke with each other ... I'm the co-owner of AsNeY Inc., who had the honor of working for Stark Industries for two years yet."

He - _what_? Tony stared at him, tried to make sense of his words. Tried to remember the name – Louis de St.Marin he had called himself yesterday, hadn’t he? - and the company's name, and ... Pepper had told him about this? Maybe? Something about there being problems with the caterers they had had for various events, and that gala that even _he_ had noticed wasn't up to their usual standards?

"Caterer?", he tried tried carefully, only to have Louis huffing above him.

Yet it was more amused than angry so he dared look up at the man. Noticed the folded letter he still held out to him. Slowly he reached for the folded paper.

"A bit more than that”, Louis explained meanwhile. “We started out as event planners but go far beyond that by now."

Tony wasn't paying attention anymore. Not when unfolding the letter had unveiled Pepper's signature, and a handwritten PS that spoke of a familiarity he never would have guessed at. Skimming over the rest of the page he found that it was a reminder for the Stark Industries Christmas party. Which would be hosted by Louis anyway. So why was she reminding him ... _oh_.

"You know Pepper."

Louis smiled, and it was that same fond smile that he used for Jean and Mary and Sigyn, the smile that said he cared for them. "I do", he said. "I have always admired her wit, and given the chance I was overjoyed to get to know her better. We sometimes do dinner together." His smile grew a little wicked as he added: "Not that she ever speaks of anything more than you."

Trying to tell him that he wasn't trying for his territory. As if he ever thought Pepper would do that to him.

As if he had any claim on her anyway.

Looking down he admitted: "We are not together anymore."

"Mmh." Nothing else, but Tony could hear that Louis had known it already.

No wonder, when he was friends with Pepper.

Trying to suppress these thoughts he offered the letter back. "Why are you telling me?"

Louis hesitated for a moment, then took a deep breath and picked up his cell phone.

People were always surprised to hear that being a genius didn't mean he could remember everything, like dates and phone numbers or even just plain names (there was a reason for all the pet names he bestowed on people). This number, however, he did recognize: his own private line that only friends and a very few selected people that worked for him knew.

And because he wasn't there to pick up he wasn't surprised that it was Jarvis who took the call.

What did surprise him was that Louis had put him on speaker phone so that he could hear his AI's smooth polite voice by himself.

"Mr. de St.Martin. It is a pleasure to hear from you, as always. How may I help you?"

"Jarvis. I assure you, the pleasure is all mine." Louis voice had smoothed out, remaking it into a strange amalgam of fond politeness that he usually heard from Pepper whenever she talked to a business partner she honestly liked, yet never had anything to do with outside of business. Which sounded ... _weird_ , when it was directed at Jarvis. People usually either saw him as a construct and treated him with less politeness than they would a human, or they were one of the few people like Tony or Rhodey who actually got that he was a person and called and treated him like a friend.

Louis treating him like a person yet keeping a polite distance was ... strange. And unsettling enough to make him forget for just long enough that he could, right here, call out to Jarvis and have him call in the cavalry to rescue him.

Which would have been embarrassing one moment later, when Louis shot him an intense gaze before saying: "I am, however, not calling about anything you might help me with. Instead there is someone who I think _you_ might like to talk to here with me." And with that he held the phone out to Tony.

He ... stared at it. For way too fucking long. How. _What_. Jarvis?

The last he finally got out. "Jarv?"

There was a beat of silence. Not as much as a human might need but certainly more than Jarvis usually needed. Long enough for the world's best AI to check and double-check his voice and probably his own audio and audio processing systems as well to make sure what he had _thought_ to hear was actually what he _had_ heard.

"Sir?"

He had heard this so often, just this word, in so many variations that he should be able to identify it in his sleep. But hearing it now, like this - so careful, like it was something precious and fragile that the truth of it might shatter if he spoke it to loud - made a shiver run down over his back. A shiver that turned into trembling and then he was shuddering, his whole body trembling like a tree in a storm, and he felt tears on his cheeks. Felt something dark and heavy in his chest ease a bit, even though it came with tears and sobs that he tried to keep silent by sheer force of will.

People shouldn’t be breaking down when they were safe. They should be happy and laughing and – he didn’t feel like laughing. He felt like a valley that had been protected by a dam for way too fucking long and suddenly the dam broke and he could just feel everything, the pain, the humiliation, the hatred and anger and helplessness come crashing down on him, carrying him away like the current of a river after a rainstorm, and it _hurt_. He gasped for breath as if he was truly suffocating, his cheeks wet. There was pain in his thighs were his fingers dug in deeply, and his throat hurt and why was he crying? He shouldn’t be – not now – not yet – but he couldn’t not …

It took him a long while to calm down again, to get all that darkness back behind the dam. It left him sore and empty, somehow, and strangely wet and dirty as well, not at all as he thought he should feel right now, and he remembered what his psychiatrist had said, back after Afghanistan, the only time he had actually gotten to see the man: _“It is okay if you don’t feel okay. You are not supposed to”._

It had been bullshit, but it made him feel better, a bit, now.

When he looked up he saw Louis looking at him with an expression that looked a little freaked out, as if this had not been what he had expected. Tony couldn’t fault him; it wasn’t what he would have expected as well.

It didn’t matter anyway. Not when, when Tony reached for the phone, he relinquished it after only a short hesitation.

Pulling it to himself Tony couldn’t help but cradle it in his hand like the precious thing it was.

"Hey buddy.", he whispered. There were still tears on his cheeks, in his eyes, and his voice was hoarse from crying and trying to keep that strange lump in his throat in but he couldn't not talk to Jarvis. "Long time no hear."

"I was worried about you, Sir", Jarvis replied and hearing him Tony couldn't imagine how anyone might not realize that he was a person. "It is good to hear you are well."

_Well_. A shiver ran over his back and suddenly he was fighting back a hysterical laugh. And then he remembered that this was Jarvis, the only one who he had shared his imminent death by palladium poisoning with, the one that had stayed with him right until the other side of a portal into the most fucked-up edge of the universe, and he let it out, let himself go in a way he hadn't been able to, not even with Louis, because Louis wouldn't understand the way Jarvis did. _The way Jarvis did,_ and he curled forward, around the phone as if he could touch Jarvis that way and show him how much he appreciated the silence, the way he was simply _there_.

It took him quite a while to put himself together again, to calm down. Yet once he did he could hear Jarvis coolly asking: "What can I do for you, Sir?" And it really should be disturbing to hear an AI say this and hear the _Who do you want me to rip apart?_ behind it but he also really didn't care.

But he had to answer the question and maybe it was because he had been in his house for so long now but he found himself looking up at Louis. Who looked at him as if he wasn't sure what to do - there was a reason he didn't show his hysterics to anyone but Jarvis - but it turned into a warning as soon as he realized that Tony was looking at him.

If they slip up it will endanger not only you but all those people that weren't lucky enough to be bought by someone like Louis. Someone who cared.

Closing his eyes he answered. "Nothing, right now. It is better when no-one knows where I am, yet." It was. And yet the thought of doing nothing, of leaving his friends to worry about him like this ...

Of not sticking it to the assholes that had done this to him ...

A grin curled the corners of his mouth upwards. "Though you can suggest to Pepper that we don't want to work with Ty Stone anymore."

Another pause that was so uncharacteristic for an AI, but when he spoke again this time it sounded almost bloodthirsty. "Of course, Sir." Another pause, this one just short enough to indicate that he was changing the topic. "If there is nothing else I might help you with would you like me to tell you what has been going on in your absence, Sir?"

Tony determinedly didn't think about his _absence_ , instead focused on the warmth curling through him at the thought of learning what his friends had been up to without him. Hoping they had found happiness even without him, hoping they had missed him and worried about him as well. Glancing up to Louis to make sure the man was okay with it, didn't need his phone back too soon, he smiled when he received a nod and a careful smile in return, and happily sat back. "Sure. Tell me what the morons did while daddy was out of the house."

The snort coming from above him made his grin grow wider, but then Jarvis started to talk and between his stories and the pictures he send him he completely forget about Louis for a while.

Forgot about everything that had happened in the last three months and just dived into a world of happiness that had seemed so unattainable again so shortly ago.

  


  



	80. The phone call

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was originally intended to be called "Back to the other involved person that I totally forgot about" but then I decided that it is too long and I went with "The phone call" which has the nice side effect of misleading you entirely as to what this chappy is about.
> 
> Also, this is my last pre-written chapter. I’ll try to keep up the weekly updates but I can’t promise, sorry. (I’ll try not to disappear into the void, however ^^')

Loki had been unsure about the whole thing - calling Jarvis. Letting Anthony know that he knew Jarvis, and why. Letting Anthony  _speak_ to him. Sure, he had seen the understanding in Anthony’s eyes when he had told him why no-one could learn his whereabouts yesterday evening. Had seen his desperation when he had realized that there were people out there who could so very easily blackmail or destroy him. The determination, later, when Loki told him that his plan to get Anthony free of their influence would also free every other slave, but only if they weren’t tipped off before.

And yet it was different to being faced with the actual living (so to speak) possibility of escape. 

Looking at him now, the ease of his posture, the smile on his face and the dried tear tracks on his cheeks, he was so very very grateful that he had given in to his urge. Even with the hysteria in the beginning, when he had thought to terminate the call and have Anthony call back once he had calmed down. He could see Anthony healing right there in front of his eyes and it made him realize just how much he had needed this way out, this connection to the man he once was and would be again. 

It made focusing on his work hard, though between the dry statistic he was working his way through and the low hum of Anthony and Jarvis talking in the background that would have been hard anyway.

And wasn't it just hilarious that he had now, when he had stopped his crusade against the Avengers and made a deal with Fury, a direct link to their home base? Really, if he had had the knowledge Jarvis shared so easily now just a few months ago ... oh, what havoc he could have caused! It would have been beautiful, and he could feel the part of him that was Chaos' mourn the missed opportunity.

He would cause more mischief, he promised himself, and he couldn't help - didn't want to stop it, actually - the dark edge that his thoughts took on. He might not yet know how, but he would take down everyone who ever knew about what had been going on with Anthony and hadn't raised a finger to stop it.

_And he was going to enjoy watching them burn._

Taking a deep breath he forced himself to let go of these thoughts and focus back on his mail. Mikey hadn’t forwarded these papers to him without reason, and Diara wouldn’t be impressed if he left a pile of work for her.

He had just managed to finish the report and contemplated going through another or rewarding himself with a letter to one of his favorite customers when a sharp knock came from the door, followed closely by Mary stepping in.

"Yes?", he asked. After all, she rarely disturbed him in his office for anything else but trying to mother-hen him (which, yeah, hilarious. He was two thousand years her senior and a parent himself, but then that was Mary for you).

She seemed a bit thrown by the tableau they presented, what with Anthony on the phone and the low voice of Jarvis telling a lovely story of how one Steve Rogers had found himself in the bath without his clothes, forcing him to dash back into his room covered only by a towel (and no wonder had Thor stood by and not gotten the joke; neither would have Loki a week ago). Yet once she did a smile appeared on her face and the look she send him was a lot softer (and approving) than he was used to. 

"I have Mr. Parker on the other line. Shall I tell him to call back later?"

Spider-Man. Calling. Loki looked over at Anthony, found him returning his look with curious eyes.

No fear there, at least not right this moment. Maybe never again, if Loki played it right. And that meant he had to find a way to neutralize the Mistress and her cohorts. Which, in turn, meant he had to get as many informations about them as possible.

"I'll be down in a moment", he told Mary, who nodded and left them. Throwing a look over his desk and the letters strewn over it, the still running computer, he realized that he either needed to take Anthony with him or trust him to not to go snooping.

Did he trust Anthony? Especially right now when the man had to know that he wouldn't hurt him, and was on the phone with someone who could rescue him if, for whatever reason, Loki flipped?

Could he afford showing him that he didn't trust him?

Loki wanted to bury his head in his hands and complain at the world at large. When had this little arrangement become so difficult? This was supposed to be nothing but Loki getting his favorite Avenger back to where he belonged. No wonder did Thor never think - if he where trying to contemplate the consequences of his every urge he would never get anything done. 

Deciding that he would trust Anthony - there weren't any too incriminating documents here anyway - he reached out, running his fingers through the bangs growing out over his eyebrows. "Will you be fine here until I return?"

The man blinked; obviously he hadn't realized what it meant when Loki took the phone call. Or he had realized it and thought Loki would have him end the call and come down with him.

Ending the call,  _ha_ . As if Loki would keep him from calling Jarvis as often and as long as he needed to. Though he would probably have him call on the landline next time; every now and then he got calls from the company on his cell phone, or, worst case, Fury called and reached Anthony. Well, next time. For now he would just hope that no-one tried to call him.

"I'm okay." A shy smile on Anthony’s lips but it was honest and edged into teasing when he added: "Wouldn't want to keep you from your important calls."

Loki really hoped he wasn't implying what he thought he was implying.

Well, anyway, he had a lone ranger to talk to. Throwing a last smile in Anthony's way he made for the door and down the hallway to the salon.

The phone was wireless and Mary had left it sitting on the coffee table to wait for him. Taking that as an excuse he sat down on the couch, his leg pulled up under his ass, and picked the phone up.

Interesting; the number was withheld.

"Mr. Parker?"

There was a beat of silence - it had taken a while so maybe the man had gone distracted - but then: "Mr. St.Marin? Hey, sorry to disturb you."

"That is alright", he reassured. "After all I told you to call me if you had enough to get them all behind bars." Though ... the timing was uncanny. And it had only been a few days – how much could he have found out in such a short time? Loki hoped for the boy that he hadn't done his research half-assed or he might actually go out of his way and pull him from this case. Shouldn’t be too difficult to arrange for the spider to have an … accident.

"Ah, yeah. It’s … erm …” The boy was obviously fiddling with something; Loki could hear the low ticking noise. Why was he so nervous? 

“About me going digging for information ... you know how you told me to only go to the police after I called you?” 

Loki felt is teeth grind on each other. He had better not called the cavalry in.

Oblivious to the rising threat on the other end of the line Parker stumbled further. “Well, turns out there is an officer already mixed in with this? I mean, officially she's there because of some drug dealing but I ... er ... talked to her, and she said she's on them because of the slavery, too."

Oh. Loki felt the rising anger dissolve in a surprise.

If he was understanding this properly Spiderman had cornered her and found out that she was an undercover cop that actually was on the right side of the law and tried to stay there instead of letting herself be bribed to close her eyes for the right people. Though - "Is she aware that they may have a mole within the police?" There had to be at least one - an organization as big as this couldn't work without connections. 

"Sure. Hence the drug dealing cover. As far as I know only she and her backup know about the true reason she's there."

So someone in the police had noticed the Mistress' work and decided to do something about it. Which, well. It was funny that some underpaid New Yorker officer was closer to finding Tony Stark than both SHIELD and the Avengers with all their resources. On the other hand - this could be the downfall for his plan to keep Anthony out of the spotlight. A case like this - a  _victim_ like this - that was a career maker. A once-in-a-lifetime chance. He wouldn't even truly blame the officer if she made this public.

He would still give her a piece of his mind, though.

"Anyway, that's only part of why I called. I mean, I figured you might want to know about her but, well, there's this other thing.” A deep breath, loud enough to be heard through the line. “She's been investigating for two years now and she says she has enough dirt on most of them to put them behind bars for a very long time, but, well, there's no way to make sure they cannot escape somewhere the law can't follow them. Sounded like half of them spend the year somewhere there anyway."

Loki definitely would, if he were in their shoes. Especially since a lot of those places seemed to come with beautiful beaches if the trash movies Jean and Mary so favored were to be believed. "And you are asking whether I have any ideas." Which ... wasn't that bad a plan. After all Loki was always the one to come up with some mad plan or another. 

"She's been with them two years and still barely belongs. You, on the other side, walk in there one time and come out with Tony Stark."

_Norns!_ Gritting his teeth Loki tried to keep his cursing to himself. It seemed his little play hadn't quite worked - somewhere along the line Parker had realized that no one-time-visitor would be granted the right to someone as prominent as Tony Stark. Here was hoping that whatever conclusion he had come to wouldn't fuck with Loki's plan regarding Anthony.

"I haven't heard of anything that could help with this", he said to try and avoid sounding caught. It had the benefit of being also completely true. "Should I hear of anything I will of course call you immediately." After he had made sure who this police officer was, and how far he could trust her.

"Okay." A pause, and Loki thought the man would take it as the dismissal it was, when he suddenly blurted: "Is he okay? Tony, I mean."

_Tony_ . Oh.

Sometimes Loki really felt slow. "You know him,"

He could practically see the man on the other end of the line, looking like a deer in the headlights, trying not to squirm too much when he answered: "I ... er ... yeah. Yeah, I met him. He's ... er ... I was an intern at Stark Industries, back at the university."

Absolutely believable, seeing as Parker had degrees in both biochem and biophysics and was, if what the private eye Mikey had set on him after he accused Louis had dug up was correct, writing on his doctor's thesis. Of course it was also not even half the truth if his stuttering was anything to go by, but Loki resolved to find out what Anthony and Peter Parker - or Spiderman and Iron Man? - had to do with each other at a later date. 

Instead he found himself turning to the wall, in the direction that he knew Anthony to be in. His lips curled up in an entirely involuntary smile but he couldn't find it in himself to care. "He is better." That soft smile, relieved, unbelieving, happy. "Once those ...  _people_ ... are done with and he can return I have every confidence that he will recover." Not entirely - experiences like this weren't ones that let you get away unscathed but Loki himself was the living proof that scarred hearts could still beat, and broken minds could be mended and heal to something even stronger. 

And Anthony had always refused to be broken.

"Oh. That's ... that's good to hear." Parker sounded close to tears.  _What has he seen, or heard, of what they did to my Anthony that he would fear him to be broken when he didn't break under anything else the world through at him?_

_Do I really want to know?_

Probably not for he feared that, if he knew, he wouldn't stick to the plan but go on a killing spree through New York.

"Okay, so ... I'm calling you when I know something? Or you call me, when you think of something?"  _Call me when anything happens with Tony, even if there is nothing I can do._ The intend behind those words was so strong Loki almost felt like they had been spoken aloud.

Maybe it was the fact that the part of him that, somehow, connected him and his magic to Anthony had been unsettled since yesterday but for once he could feel his magic, his ... his  _self_ uncurl and send a tiny little tendril out to the man. The man that cared for his Anthony and somehow had managed to become _Loki's_ by extension. 

It felt ... strange, to say the least. Like what connected him to his brother and children and friends and maybe even the Avengers, just that it was much much lesser, like a color that shone bright gold with Anthony diluted until it was only visible against clear water.

Swallowing hard he yanked it back, like jerking on a lasso when you realized the bilgesnipe you were after was quite a bit larger than you had thought. And yet he had the strange feeling that it was already too late. Somehow his magic had decided to connect to this man and he had always known that even the best sorcerer could never fully control a thing as wild as the power of the universe. 

Somehow he managed to get rid of Parker without being too rude – he hoped -, then cut the line.

Only to stare down at his hands, so innocently white as any Aes' and showing nothing of his misbehaving magic.

What was happening to him?


	81. (A confusing morning)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> adorable sleepy possessive Loki  
> Tony ... may not think it as adorable as I do  
> a formal apology

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PLEASE READ THIS FIRST or you'll be now very confused ...
> 
> This chapter is NOT directly following the previous one. While writing the story I found that the original position was not working for this chapter, so I put it at the back of the story until I reach the part where it will fit in better (for further explanation read the note of chapter 34).
> 
> I'm really sorry for being so confusing, but I think it works much better this way.

This chapter has been taken down to avoid further confusion. I'll put it up again once it fits into the story.

 

Again, I'm sorry.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not a native speaker, so feel free to point any and all mistakes out that bother you.
> 
> And I'm your typical author - I'm living off comments. And kudos. And sweet comments on bookmarks ^^


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